False Reality
by cindy123
Summary: In one awful moment they lose everything.  Or do they?  Guilty/Grieving John; Grieving Dean; extremely limp Sam.  NOT A DEATHFIC!
1. Chapter 1

**This story came to me while writing The Deal. It should only end up being 2, maybe 3 chapters. I hope you like it and will let me know what you think. **

**Sam is 15 and Dean is 19.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the television show Supernatural. This story is written strictly for entertainment purposes.**

"I'm gonna tell you one last time, Sam…we are leaving in the morning and no amount of tantrums or hissy fits are gonna change that!" John hissed, his red, enraged face inches away from his equally angry youngest son's.

"You promised! You said we'd be here through the semester! That's next week, Dad! You promised you'd come to the debate…the final! Two days…that's all I'm asking for!" Sam shouted back, long arms coming out from his sides to emphasize his father's injustice.

"People are dying, Sam...that's more important than your damned debate!" John shot back, the man ignoring the hurt that flashed in his son's eyes.

"Come on, guys…just stop for once! Let's go eat," Dean pleaded in exasperation, the young man gesturing his arms in defeat as he turned from his warring family and headed toward the crappy little diner that stood across the narrow street from the crappier little motel they currently called home.

John and Sam continued to argue their points, the sound of their voices cutting out as the door to the diner shut softly behind the beleaguered middle Winchester. He found a booth by the window and slowly turned his head and watched as the battle continued. He shook his head and turned away, then smiled up at the frazzled waitress who suddenly appeared with a glass of water and menu in hand.

"Uh…there'll be two more…eventually," he said as he accepted the menu with an embarrassed chuckle as the waitress glanced up to gaze through the window at the feuding pair across the street. She looked back down at Dean with sympathy in her eyes then turned and walked away.

"Yeah…story of my life," Dean huffed under his breath before turning back to watch the war continue.

Sam stared in disbelief at his father, the boy and the man either not hearing our choosing to ignore the pleading of their other family member. Neither noticed when Dean turned and walked away, both too stubborn to back down, which made them blind to everything else around them.

"Nobody's dying right now, Dad! It's too soon in the lunar cycle! We have weeks to research…which we could do here just as easily as there! We have plenty of time to get there, scope things out! The only reason you want to go now is because you want to screw with my life…again!" Sam shouted, his voice not only filled with anger, but with deep hurt also. "It's not the debate that isn't important to you…it's me, Dad. Why don't you just say it? If it means something to me, you're gonna do everything in your power to rip it apart!"

"That isn't true and you know it. Stop being so melodramatic, Sam," John hissed, though deep down he knew that Sam wasn't so far off the mark. Not the idea that Sam wasn't important to John…the kid meant everything to him. No, it was all the other stuff that Sam thought was important. None of that…the debates, the science fairs, the straight A's meant squat in the hunting world. Sam was going to school for one reason only…to keep Child Services off John's ass. His path had already been chosen for him, and Sam was going to have to accept that sooner or later. John was just hurrying it along a bit by nipping any little thing in the bud that took Sam's attention away from the hunt, before it had a chance to grow. It wasn't like Sam would be going off to college or anything like that, so all of his little extracurricular activities were just a waste of time.

"It is true. You don't give a sh*t about me! You care more about strangers than you do your own son," Sam said, the boy's shoulders sagging as he turned toward the motel and stepped from the sidewalk to the chipped asphalt of the parking lot.

"Sam, don't turn your back on me. This conversation is over. Now get your butt over to the diner so we can eat. Your brother's waiting," John said as he stepped off of the sidewalk and into the street.

"I'm not hungry. What do you care anyway? I could starve to death then you wouldn't have to worry about dragging my sorry ass around all of the time," Sam said as he turned to look over his shoulder at his father's retreating form.

John stopped in the middle of the street and turned, his face flush with anger once again. He pointed his finger at his son as the teen turned around to face him. "You are the most selfish little son of a…," John started before pulling a hand through his hair. "Everything I do is for you and your brother!"

Sam's eyes widened in disbelief and anger. "I'm selfish! You've mapped out everything, Dad! I don't get a choice in my own life and I'm the one who's selfish? Are you kidding me!" he cried. "You want me to believe that you do this for me? For Dean? You do it for yourself, Dad!"

John's body shook as rage roared through him. He was so blind in it that he didn't see the sudden movement to his right. He didn't see as Sam's eyes widened, not in anger, but in fear. He barely had time to register anything before the sound of Sam's voice screaming for him to move reached his ears and his son's outstretched hands plowed into his chest, violently thrusting his body backwards, his butt hitting the hard surface of the street with bone jarring force. The next sound was drowned out by the blood rushing through John's ears as he watched his son…his baby, flying over the top of the speeding red truck and landing in the street with a sickening thud. John couldn't take his eyes off of Sam's still form, his brain barely acknowledging the sound of Dean's screams until he saw his eldest son skid across the asphalt on his knees to land next to his fallen little brother, his hands reaching down and grabbing Sam's…_oh, God_…ripped, bloodied jacket.

John finally came back to himself and rolled onto his knees before frantically beginning to crawl toward his sons. "No! Don't move him, Dean!" he shouted.

The sound of alarmed voices suddenly filled the street as patrons hurried from shops and the diner, but John ignored them as he reached Sam's side, his shocked dark eyes taking in the mangled body that was his son. "No, no, no," he cried softly as he reached down and touched Sam's shredded cheek.

John looked up when he heard a strangled sob, his eyes meeting tear filled green ones. John opened his mouth to tell his son to call 911, but the sound of sirens let him know that one of the onlookers in the growing crowd around them had beaten him to it. Instead, he reached over and gripped Dean's arm then gave it a firm, gentle squeeze.

"Dean, it'll be alright…he'll be alright," he comforted, though looking at his youngest son made his heart sink into his belly. How could he be alright? A soft, gurgling moan brought him back to the situation and he jerked his eyes down to his baby boy.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, the normally strong, confident voice cracking with emotion as agony filled hazel eyes opened and blinked up at him. Dean leaned over his brother, his hand tenderly…carefully…cupping the top of Sam's head as he whispered into his ear that everything was going to be okay…that help was on the way.

Sam rolled his eyes toward his father, tears immediately welling as his lips began to move. "'m…s'ry…" Sam croaked before coughs racked his body and to his family's horror, frothy blood spattered over his lips, staining his chin and cheeks.

"No, Sammy…nothing to be sorry for, kiddo. Just be quiet…help is on the way," John soothed, his stomach clenching as Sam gurgled and choked around the blood pouring from his mouth.

Suddenly, both John and Dean were pulled away from their fallen one, their cries of protest ignored as paramedics immediately set to work on Sam. They both crawled around until they sat at Sam's head, their voices whispering in unison as they tried to comfort the injured teen. Dean glanced up and his heart jumped into his throat at the look the paramedics gave each other.

"What?" he cried, his eyes jumping from one man to the other.

Both men turned their attention momentarily to Dean before they went back to work attaching wires to Sam's bared chest and inserting needles into his arm. And just when, Dean thought, did they have time to cut open Sam's jacket and shirt to reveal his chest and arm? He watched in horrified fascination as one man hooked Sam up to the monitor they had brought while the other carefully poked and prodded along Sam's sides. His eyes widened when, for the first time, he saw the bone that had torn through Sam's jeans mid thigh, it's ragged end stained deep red with Sam's blood. The paramedics spoke to each other in hushed tones, but neither Dean nor John tried to hear what they said. They were too intent on watching every blink of Sam's eyes, every staggered rise and fall of his bruised and bloodied chest. Then, Sam gurgled one more time before falling completely still, his eyes closing, but not completely. The monitor he was hooked to blared an alarm that had both Winchesters jumping out of their skin. They both jerked their attention to the paramedics who…were doing nothing.

"What the hell are you doing!" John screamed as Dean leaned over and began blowing breaths into his brother's mouth.

"Sir…we can't…" one of the paramedics started, but John's frantic voice cut him off mid sentence.

"Help him! Don't just sit there!"

"Sir…his heart has stopped…he's not breathing…"

John lurched forward and grabbed the unfortunate man by his jacket. "So do chest compressions! Help him!"

"Sir…his…his chest is crushed. He…all of his ribs are broken. We can't do chest compressions. His lungs…his heart…I…I'm sorry…we can't help him…he's…"

"Don't you say it," John hissed. "Don't you f***ing say it! Help my son! Help right now before I rip you apart!"

The paramedic drew back as John let loose of his jacket. He turned to his partner and both exchanged a knowing, sad look before they took over resuscitation from Dean. With the help of John and Dean, they carefully placed Sam onto the gurney, one paramedic still breathing for the lifeless boy, then they loaded him onto the waiting ambulance. The doors slammed shut and the ambulance sped away, leaving two stunned, devastated men to watch after it before they finally took off at full speed toward the waiting Impala. They were at the small hospital in minutes and then the waiting game began.

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John sat in stunned silence as he played the words the doctor had spoken to him over and over again in his head.

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Wesson…we tried, but we couldn't save your son. Both of his lungs and his heart were damaged beyond repair…" _

"_You didn't try hard enough…" _

"_Sir…he was already gone when he arrived…" _

"_No…he's not dead…he can't be dead…he's only fifteen…" _

"_Mr. Wesson…he bled out before he even reached us. We pushed blood through him as fast as we could, but the damage was just too great and we couldn't revive him…I'm sorry." _

John's legs had given out then and he had collapsed into his chair. Dean had begun to sob beside him and the doctor had remained for a few moments before he retreated, the older man shaking his head sadly as he left the devastated men to grieve in peace. Everything had changed. In that one horrible moment, they're lives had changed…had ended. Their life, their reason for breathing was gone. What did revenge matter now? What did anything matter now? Sam was dead and it was John's fault and he'd never be able to look his remaining son in the eyes again.

John glanced over at Dean, his heart breaking at the sight of the normally stoic young man falling apart beside him. He reached over and draped his arm across his son's shoulders then pulled the young man close.

"It's gonna be okay, Dean," John whispered, though he didn't believe that for a second. Nothing would be okay ever again and he knew it, but he had a job to do and that was to be a father to his hurting son.

Dean slowly glanced over and stared in disbelief at his father. "How can you say that? How can you sit here and say that to me?" he hissed before turning away.

"Dean…Sam wouldn't want us to…"

Dean leapt to his feet and turned on his father. "Who the hell are you to say what Sammy would want!" he cried, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "All you had to do was to put Sam first…just once, Dad! He'd be alive if you had kept one f***in' promise! Don't you ever tell me what Sam would have wanted…you've never cared what he wanted!"

John's mouth fell open as he watched Dean turn away. He rose to his feet, ready to defend himself, but when he saw Dean's shoulders sag and his body begin to tremble, any anger he held slipped away. He reached out and turned Dean toward him then pulled him into his arms, wrapping the grieving young man in his strong embrace.

"Dean…I'm so sorry," he whispered as Dean sobbed against his shoulder.

"I…I can't live without him, Dad. How…how can I live without him?" Dean slumped into his father's embrace, the man's strength the only thing keeping his son from hitting the floor.

John eased Dean down into a chair then kneeled before him. Dean looked up and stared into his father's dark eyes. John cupped the nape of his son's neck and shook his head. "We have to stick together, Dean. The only way we get through this is to stick together," he said hoarsely.

Dean dropped his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead on John's shoulder. A soft voice interrupted the moment between father and son and both glanced up to see a young nurse standing a few feet away. She shifted uncomfortably as she waited for an answer to her question.

"What? Did you say something," John asked as he stood, his hand still holding his son's nape.

The nurse swallowed as she shifted her gaze between the two devastated men. She looked up into John's eyes and smiled sadly. "I can take you to see Sam…if you want," she said in reply.

Dean stood and faced the nurse. "I…I don't know if I can," he whispered.

"I understand," the nurse began. "You don't have to see him, but I think it may help."

The Winchesters turned toward each other and finding strength in each other's eyes, they turned back to the nurse. John took a deep breath before he spoke. "Take us to see him," he said softly as deep inside, his heart split in two.

**Okay, that's chapter 1. Now, those of you who have followed my stories know how I feel about killing Winchesters (extended family included). That being said, I hope you'll stick with me on this. Take care all.**

**Cindy**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, to say I'm blown away by the reaction to this story would be an understatement. I really did not expect so many readers to put the story on alert, to favorite it or to have so many comments be sent my way. Like many of my stories, this one started out as a dream I had and I wrote down whatever I could remember. The story formed around those notes. Thank you all so much. I really hope I don't blow it now and disappoint you all. Anyway, I'll let you get to chapter 2.**

**Cindy**

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"I'm so sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered, his fingers brushing tenderly through his still little brother's hair, green eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. "I should've stayed with you…shouldn't have walked away…" Heartwrenching sobs cut off the young hunters words as he dropped his head down upon Sam's sheet covered chest. His arms went around his brother and pulled his limp body up into a desperately tight embrace. He rocked Sam, begging him to come back to him, to not leave him alone, though he knew that he would never see Sam's soft hazel eyes or hear his voice again. Finally, he lay Sam back down on the thinly cushioned gurney and looked longingly down at the colorless face. "God, Sammy…how am I gonna do this without you?"

John watched from across the small room, his heart breaking for his eldest son. He'd done this to his family. He was the reason Sam lay there, cold and unmoving. Dean had been right when he'd blamed John. If he'd kept his promise to his son the argument would have never taken place. What threatened to rip his heart from his chest was the fact that despite how horribly he'd treated his son, Sam had still thrown himself in the path of the speeding truck, no thought what so ever to his own safety. Sam had died protecting the one person who'd made his life so miserable. John shook his head slowly then dropped his chin to his chest, ignoring the tears that trailed down his cheeks. He wanted to go to his sons, but guilt kept him where he was, leaned up against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

"Dad," Dean's hoarse voice called and John looked up to meet his eldest son's stricken gaze.

John cleared his throat and pushed away from the wall, though he didn't take a single step toward his boys. "What is it?" he asked in reply.

Dean looked down at Sam then back up at his father, his eyes conveying what he couldn't voice. John shook his head, his hand coming up to brush over his haggard face. "I…I can't, Dean. I don't…"

"He's your son. Suck it up and say goodbye…he deserves that much from you," Dean hastily said, though his voice sounded too tired to hold any venom.

John stared at his eldest before dropping his gaze to Sam. He tentatively took one step, then two, then another until he was standing next to the gurney, Dean watching him from Sam's other side. The sheet had slipped down some and John had to hold in a sob at the deep bruising that marred the white skin of Sam's chest. Even with Sam's chest mostly covered, John could still see what the doctor had tried to convince him of. Sam's chest had been crushed, the organs it protected damaged beyond repair. He looked down the length of his son's body and silently thanked God that he couldn't see where the bone from Sam's leg stuck out through the flesh. He returned his gaze to Sam's face. His cheek looked like hamburger where it had met the rough asphalt and without a thought, John leaned down and tenderly kissed the wound, his dark eyes closing as he remembered all of the times he'd kissed his baby boy's hurts away. That was a long time ago and a simple kiss could not repair the damage this time.

John straightened up and he reached under the sheet to take Sam's cold hand into his. He brought the hand to his lips and gave the fingers a gentle kiss before pressing it to his chest. He reached out with his other hand and brushed the tangled hair from Sam's closed eyes. "I…I don't know what to say to you, Sammy. This is my fault and…and I can't fix it this time," he said softly.

John glanced up into Dean's glistening green eyes and hoped that if anything, he could fix the rip in he and his eldest son's relationship. Dean would need him more than ever now, but he was afraid that the young man wouldn't let him back in. Dean dropped his gaze and John sighed as he looked back down at Sam.

"I love you, Sammy and…and I'm sorry I never told you that. I'm sorry I never told you how proud I was of you. I know it's too late now and I'll never forgive myself for that," he said as more tears welled then spilled down his cheeks. "Why'd you do it, son? Why'd you throw it all away…for me? I didn't deserve it…"

Suddenly, John's knees buckled and he was overcome by intense, terrifying dizziness. His vision began to darken and he felt himself begin to fall. He dropped Sam's hand and reached out for anything he could grab to keep from falling, but all his hands found were air. He heard Dean scream for him as his vision went completely black. He didn't even feel it when his head hit the floor.

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John came to slowly, his dark eyes cracking open only to slam back shut as the light around him brought a marching band alive inside his head. "Uhnnn…" he groaned as he reached up, his hand moving around his head until his fingers brushed over a particularly tender spot. He hissed as he pressed down on the spot, then flinched when he felt a hand grab his wrist and pull his hand away.

"Don't touch it, Dad."

John carefully opened his eyes and sighed thankfully when he found that the light had been turned down. He blinked a few times to clear his hazy vision and finally, Dean's worried face came into focus. Dean smiled tiredly as he leaned back in the chair he sat upon.

"D-Dean…what happened," John asked, the man surprised by how weak his voice sounded.

Dean leaned forward again and blew out a shaky breath. "You passed out, Dad. Hit your head pretty damned hard. Got yourself a concussion out of it," he answered.

"Passed out?" John said, more to himself than to his son.

"Yeah…I swear, between you and Sammy…well, you're both gonna be the death of me, Dad," Dean said with a slight chuckle, though there was no humor in his tired eyes.

John's heart clenched at the mention of his youngest son. His baby was dead and he was the one to blame. "Sammy," he whispered as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Don't worry, Dad…they're taking good care of him. He…"

John's eyes shot open and stared up at his eldest son's face. "What? What do you mean?"

"Uh…the truck…Sammy pushing you out of the way and getting hit. Any of this ringing a bell?" Dean answered, a hint of worry darkening his handsome face.

John grasped the blanket that covered him in his hands as he was assaulted with the memories of Sam being hit. "Sam's dead," he whispered as tears filled his eyes.

"What? What are you talking about, Dad?"

John looked up at Dean's confused face and swallowed deeply. "Sam's chest was crushed…his heart and lungs…crushed. His leg…"

"I think you may have hit your head a little harder than they thought, Dad. I'm gonna get the doctor in here," Dean interrupted as he hit the call button on the side of John's bed.

"Dean…Sammy's dead. We…we were saying goodbye when…when I passed out. He died for me," John said hoarsely.

"Dad, Sam pushed you out of the way of that truck and yes, he got hit. Busted up his leg bad enough to require surgery, but he ain't dead. He's up on the surgical floor…very much alive," Dean replied, the young man becoming more concerned by the second.

"But…" John started only to be interrupted when the door to his room opened and a middle aged nurse with blue eyes and dark brown hair strolled in.

"Mr. Winchester, you're awake," the nurse said as she came around the bed and checked the monitors that were attached to her patient.

"Uh…I think the doctor needs to take another look at him," Dean said as he stood and looked over at the nurse.

"Oh. What seems to be the problem…I mean, other than the obvious?" the nurse asked with concern.

Dean looked down at his father then back up at the woman. "He…he thinks my brother's…dead," he answered.

The nurse gasped then looked down at her patient. "Well, a concussion can cause some memory problems, but causing a person to have false memories isn't usually one of them," she said.

John glared up at the nurse and tried to push himself up higher on his pillow. "It isn't a false memory! My son…my baby boy died. His chest was crushed when he was hit by a truck that would have hit me if he hadn't pushed me out of the way. The doctor said he was dead before he ever made it here. We…Dean and I…were with him, saying goodbye!"

"Dad…you're right. We were with Sammy. He'd just been settled in his room after his surgery. He woke up somewhat and you were talking to him…telling him you were sorry for the argument then…then you just went white and passed out. He's not dead, Dad," Dean said urgently, his hands shaking as he reached down to grip John's shoulder.

"Oh, God…I wish that were true…"

"It is true, Mr. Winchester. Your youngest son is recovering up on the surgical floor," the nurse supplied as she checked John's vitals. She glanced up at Dean and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'm sure it's just the concussion, but I'll go ahead and call Dr. Garcia and let him know that your dad is awake and a bit…confused," she said.

"I'm right here and I'm not confused," John hissed as he glared up at the nurse.

Dean gave the nurse an apologetic smile and watched as she left the room. He turned to his father and sighed. "You probably just had a bad dream, Dad, and with the concussion it probably just seems real. We were both stressed out and so worried about Sam, I can understand you having a nightmare," he said as he once again sat down in his chair.

"I…I don't know, Dean," John said softly, his dark eyes falling to his lap.

"Sam's alive, Dad. I just came from checking on him. He's sleeping…all drugged up and everything, but he's alive. I promise you," Dean replied.

"I want to see him. I have to see for myself that he's okay," John said as he looked up at his son. He tried to sit up, but Dean was up in an instant pushing him gently back down.

"Let's just wait until Dr. Garcia takes a look at you then I'll take you to see Sammy," Dean said.

John eyed his son then nodded lightly. "Fine, but as soon as the doctor leaves, I'm going to see my boy," he said.

The two men sat in silence for the next several minutes until finally the door opened and an older man in a white doctor's coat entered the room. Dean stood and faced the newcomer.

"Hi, doc," Dean said as he watched the man round the bed and look down at the man lying there.

"Hi, Dean," the doctor said without glancing up. "Mr. Winchester, I'm Dr. Garcia. I hear you're having some trouble remembering a few things," he said, the doctor coming right to the point.

"You're not the one who was taking care of Sam when he came in," John said as he eyed the doctor warily.

"No, that would be Dr. Mitchell. He's the ER doctor who was on last night when your son was brought in. I was called after you fell and hit your head," Dr. Garcia said. "Now, let's take a look at you, shall we?"

John rolled his eyes and glared up at the doctor. "Is Dr. Mitchell still on shift? I want to talk to him," John asked as Dr. Garcia checked his pupils.

"I believe he's still here, but the ER is quite busy right now. Friday nights are always busy around here," the doctor answered. "Now, what's this I hear? You think your youngest son is dead?"

"I…"

"I think he just had a bad dream and the concussion is making him think it was real," Dean quickly said as his gaze moved from his father to the doctor across the bed from him.

Dr. Garcia nodded as he met Dean's gaze. "That could explain it. The concussion was relatively mild and the scan we did didn't show any brain bleeds. His eyes are looking more even and his stats and vitals are right on track. I'd say that would be the best explanation at this point, but we'll keep an eye on things over the next few hours," he said.

"I want to see my son," John said as he crossed his arms over his chest, daring the doctor to deny him.

Dr. Garcia nodded as he smiled down at his patient. "I don't see a problem with that. I'll have an orderly bring in a wheelchair then I'll have a talk with your son's surgeon," the doctor replied as he turned toward the door. Suddenly, he turned back around. "Oh, I forgot. There are two police officers who want to speak with you. They're waiting outside the room. You can talk with them while I check with Sam's doctor…unless you want me to tell them to come back later?"

"Uh…no, you can send them in. Maybe they have news on the jackass who hit Sammy," Dean answered.

Dr. Garcia nodded then opened the door. Two uniformed men entered the room, the door softly shutting behind. Dean recognized the two officers as the ones who had questioned he and his father as they had waited for word on Sam. He nodded as the two men stepped up to the foot of John's bed. The taller of the two, Officer Rollins if Dean remembered correctly, nodded in return.

"Uh…is there a problem, officer?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Well, that depends," the officer responded.

"On what?" John queried, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared up at the officer.

"We found the man we feel is responsible for the hit and run on your son," Officer Rollins answered evenly. "And…" he said further when Dean opened his mouth to speak.

"And?" Dean asked warily.

"And…we need to know if you've left the hospital at any time since your brother was brought in," the officer continued.

"What? No, I haven't left. My brother was in surgery most of the night and then my dad passed out and hit his head. I've been back and forth between their rooms all night long," Dean answered, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Why do you want to know if Dean left the hospital?" John asked gruffly.

The officer turned his attention to John. "Because, as I said, we found the man we feel is responsible for your son's injuries and…he's dead," he answered.

Dean's eyes widened as he suddenly gripped John's arm. "Dead? How?" he asked, his heart racing in his chest.

"Broken neck. Looks like someone snapped it for him," the other, shorter officer answered as he stepped up beside the bed.

Dean's mouth dropped open as he looked first at the officers then at his father then back at the officers again. "And you think I killed him?" he asked.

"We have to consider it a possibility. You did say if you found who had hurt your brother you would rip him apart, and that's a quote," the shorter officer said.

"I was here, or up in Sam's room all night. You can ask any of the nurses. Besides, I have no idea who the bastard is. All I saw was a read pickup….nothing else," Dean defended.

"We will be talking to the nursing staff and watching hospital surveillance tapes," Officer Rollins said.

"Fine…do what you have to do," Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Short cop nodded and smiled apologetically. "Look, we're just doing our jobs. I don't think you killed him, but the coincidence is just too much to overlook. He hits your brother with his truck and runs and then we find him hours later with his neck snapped after you'd said you would kill him if you found him. If we didn't question you about it, we'd lose our jobs," he said.

"I get it…really…I just…my brother's upstairs drugged to the gills and my dad's lying here with a concussion. Got a lot on my mind, you know?" Dean replied softly.

"Do you mind if I asked how you found the guy? Where you found him?" John asked as he pushed himself up on his pillows.

"I'm sorry, sir…we can't tell you that," Officer Rollins said.

The door to the room opened at that moment and all four men turned their attention to the orderly who pushed a wheelchair into the room. The orderly stopped and eyed the men nervously. "Uh…I'm here to take Mr. Winchester up to the surgical floor," he explained.

"That's fine. We're done here," short cop said before he and his partner left the room.

Dean watched the officers leave then turned to his father. "So, are you ready to go see Sam?" he asked.

John swallowed hard, his heart suddenly beating faster, the man unsure of what he would find when he saw his son. The memory of Sam lying still on the gurney, his chest collapsed into itself still hung heavy in his mind and he found it suddenly hard to breathe.

"Dad…are you okay? Dad…take a breath!" Dean cried as he helped John sit up straight on the bed.

John took several deep breaths in an effort to calm his heart and finally nodded that he was okay. He looked up into the frightened eyes of his eldest son and smiled weakly. "S-Sorry 'bout that. I just…I…"

"Are you sure you're up to seeing Sammy? We could wait a few hours, Dad," Dean asked.

"No…I'm fine. I want to see Sam," John answered, the man already swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Dean nodded at the orderly to bring the chair to the bed and soon he was pushing his father toward the elevator that would take them to the floor above.

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John sat next to Sam's bed, his dark eyes taking in the rise and fall of the sleeping boys chest. He could see that Sam was alive, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't been dreaming when he stood over his son's dead body. He tentatively reached out and took Sam's hand in. It was warm and pliant in his hand, nothing like it felt before. His eyes moved to Sam's face, which was thankfully free from the deep wounds he remembered. He shook his head as he continued to watch Sam sleep. So deep in his thoughts, John jumped when Dean suddenly spoke.

"See, Dad…he's banged up pretty bad, but he's alive."

John looked over at his son and smiled tiredly. "I just don't understand it. It seemed so real. I've never had a dream that was so real, Dean. Something's going on…I just don't know what," he said.

"Dad…you're tired, you're stressed and you have a concussion. I'm sure your dream seemed real, but it wasn't," Dean replied.

"He saved my life, Dean. I treated him like crap, making him miss his debate and he still risked his life to save mine. I…I watched him die in the street…"

"No, you watched him fall unconscious. I watched him fall unconscious. I was there too, Dad."

"I…I don't know what's happening to me, Dean. I know he died…I know he did…" John's voice trailed off as Sam's fingers twitched in his hand.

John leaned forward in the wheelchair and watched Sam's face scrunch up before his eyes fluttered open. John gave Sam's hand a squeeze and smiled when the boy rolled his head toward him. Sam blinked once, twice before recognition swept over his face.

"D-Dad…wha' hpn'd…where am I?"

**x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x **

**Well, confused yet? So, was it just a dream or did Sam really die? Is John losing his mind or is something really going on? Tune in next time to find the answers. Thanks for reading.**

**Cindy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, took longer than I'd planned, but here is the next chapter. Looks like the story will run longer than the three chapters I'd thought it would be. Hope you all don't mind. :) Once again blown away by all of the alerts and the readers marking this story as a favorite. The comments have been wonderful and I thank each of you so much for taking the time to tell me what you think. I know you're all a bit confused...some have even been flabbergasted! LOL Anyway, I hope this chapter takes at least some of that confusion away. Now, onto the story.**

**Cindy**

"_D-Dad…wha' hpn'd…where am I?" _

John squeezed Sam's hand and smiled. "What do you remember, Sammy?" he asked softly.

Sam rolled his head away and shut his eyes. He licked his dry lips and lifted one hand to his chest. He rolled his head back toward his father and opened his eyes. "Am I dead?" he whispered fearfully.

"What!" Dean suddenly exclaimed, causing his little brother to jump in fear. He reached down and rubbed his hand up and down Sam's arm. He smiled when Sam looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. "Sammy…why would you say that?" he asked.

Sam shook his head and glanced back over at his father. "I…I was lying in the street and…and you both were leanin' over me. There was blood everywhere. My chest…"

Sam's words trailed off as his eyes took on a faraway look. "I was dead," he whispered, his words barely audible to his father and brother.

Dean and John shared a shocked look before they both turned their attention back to Sam. Dean gave Sam's arm a gentle squeeze and waited until the younger boy stared up at him. He shook his head as he took Sam's hand in his. "No, Sammy…don't say that. That's not true," he said almost pleadingly.

"You were breathing into my mouth, Dean. You…"

"No! I never did that, Sam. You were banged up…broke your leg, but you never stopped breathing!" Dean cried.

Sam flinched and pulled away from his brother. He rolled his head toward his father, a single tear trailing down his cheek. "Dad…there was blood coming out of my mouth. What's happening?"

"Sammy…how do you know these things?" John asked, the man ignoring the angry look his eldest son shot him.

"I…I don't know. I saw it…like I was standing a few feet away or something. I watched them take me away and I watched you guys and…you were…you were crying. I never saw you cry before, Dad," Sam answered.

"Sam, it didn't happen like that," Dean interrupted as he came around the bed to stand next to his father. "You must've dreamt all that 'cause of the drugs they have you loaded up on," he added.

John turned his head and looked up at his son. "Dean…that's…"

"Don't, Dad. Don't even go there," Dean snapped, his angry, green eyes softening when he looked back over at Sam only to find he had fallen asleep, the pull of the painkillers too much for the exhausted boy to fight.

Dean turned back to his dad the moved behind his chair and pulled him away from the bed. He rolled the chair to the far wall then stepped in front of John. "What the hell are you trying to do, Dad? Scare the kid to death?" he hissed angrily.

"Dean…what Sam described….that's exactly how it happened. Everything he said he saw…all of it!"

"He was just hit by the bumper, Dad. Hard enough to break his leg, but not enough to kill him…to crush his chest!"

"He was thrown onto the hood and then into the windshield…"

"Then why don't I remember that! I was there too, Dad…why do I remember a completely different scene?"

"I don't know, Dean. Something happened from the time I passed out to the time I woke up…."

"But I was awake the entire time! Nothing happened! Sam was alive when you passed out, Dad…not dead. This is crazy!"

"Then why does Sammy remember it the way I do?" John snapped as he pushed up from the wheelchair and onto his feet.

Dean's hand shot out and grasped his father's arm when the man faltered and stumbled. "Dad, sit back down. You've got a concussion!" he hissed.

John glared at Dean then glanced over at his youngest son. "I've got to find out what the hell is going on, Dean. Something happened here. Someone, or something brought Sam back and I'm going to find out who…or what…and why!"

"Dad, that doesn't make sense. I think I would remember Sam dying," Dean said, a visible tremor shaking his slim, yet muscular form.

"Unless you weren't meant to remember," John said.

"What? Why would whatever did this let you remember, but make me forget…or remember a completely different scenario? Oh, and let's not forget the doctors, nurses, paramedics and cops. Why would whoever…or whatever do that? And why Sammy?"

John looked at Dean then turned back toward Sam. He shuffled across the floor, Dean at his side helping to steady him. He reached the side of Sam's bed and gazed down at the sleeping teen. Finally, he looked over at Dean and sighed. "I don't know why this happened, Dean. I don't know why Sam was brought back, but I intend to find out," he said.

Dean swallowed deeply then looked down at his brother. His mind assaulted him with the scenes that had been described and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. It wasn't until his arm was jerked on rather roughly that Dean realized John was talking to him. He turned his head to find his father's dark, concerned eyes staring fearfully at him.

"Dean…are you okay? What the hell just happened?"

"I…if you're right then…then Sammy was dead. I lost my brother," Dean whispered, the young man visibly shaking.

"You didn't lose him, Dean. For whatever reason, he's alive," John said in reply.

"But…what if it…or they…or whatever…what if they try to take him back? What then, Dad?"

"We won't let that happen, Dean. We'll figure this out. Nothing is going to happen to Sammy…I promise you that," John said firmly.

"How, Dad? You're stuck in this hospital and…"

"Not for long, Dean. Not after I tell the doctor I want to be released."

"Dad, you have a concussion."

"I'm fine. I can't help Sam if I'm stuck lying on my back."

Dean glanced at his father and sighed. "Fine, but where do we even start? There are no real witnesses 'cause everyone remembers it like I remember it."

"We start at the house of the driver of the truck. He died because of what happened, I'm sure of it," John said.

"We can't leave Sammy here alone and unprotected, Dad. I'll find out where the dickhead lived and I'll go check it out," Dean said, his green eyes moving to his brother's lax face.

John nodded as he stood next to the bed. "Good idea. I think we should give Bobby a call too. See if he can come up with anything that will help," he said.

Dean nodded and stepped away from his father for a moment. He rolled the wheelchair over to the bed and pushed it up behind his father. "Sit, Dad, before you fall over," he commanded.

John looked over his shoulder and glared at his son. "I'm fine, Dean," he grumbled, his hands gripping the bed railing as he leaned heavily against it.

"Dad, you can barely stand. I really don't want to pick you up off the floor again," Dean said and pointed at the chair, one brow arched.

"Who the hell is the father here?" John groused as he finally obeyed and sat heavily in the wheelchair.

Dean nodded his approval then lowered the railing and sat on the foot of the bed, the young man careful not to disturb his brother. "So, the driver's house…what else? Not much to go on, Dad."

"I don't know, Dean. Maybe Bobby will have an idea," John answered.

"What about a Djinn?" Dean asked.

John shook his head and glanced up at Dean. "Not a Djinn's m.o."

Dean glanced down at the floor and lifted a hand up to massage the back of his neck. Suddenly, he stopped and looked up at his father, green eyes wide as an idea occurred to him. John looked up and cocked his head. "What?" he asked as he watched Dean stand and begin to pace at the end of the bed.

Dean stopped and faced his father. "What about the security cameras? Those cops were gonna watch 'em, why don't we too? Maybe they'll show something," he finally said.

"Yeah…that's a good idea, Dean. How're we going to get to them though? We can't just waltz in and tell them we want to watch them," John said.

"I'll figure that out. Right now, we got to get you back to bed…"

"I said I was going to get myself released, Dean," John interrupted.

"Oh, yeah…right. You think that's such a good idea? I mean, really, Dad…you're pretty shaky still," Dean said.

"Someone has to stay with Sammy. If I'm still admitted, they'll eventually make me go back to my room. If I'm not a patient, I can stay 'round the clock," John said.

"You're right," Dean said. "Man, I wish we could get the kid outa' here. I don't like him being here with all these strangers having access to him," he continued.

"I'll be with him, Dean. He needs to be here right now," John said.

Dean glanced at his father and sighed. "Yeah…I know. He's just so vulnerable and face it, Dad…you're not one hundred percent right now," he said tiredly.

"You saying I can't take care of Sam? That I would let something happen to him?" John asked, a hint of anger in his voice.

"No! I'm not saying that at all, but this whole crap situation. We don't even know what we're fighting here. Dad, if you're right about all of this then something brought Sam back from the dead and then managed to plant false memories in everybody involved, except you and Sam apparently."

John reached out and grasped Dean's arm. He stared up at the young man and gave him a reassuring smile. "Look, we'll get ahold of Bobby, get him working on this. If we have to, we'll call Joshua or Caleb…see how close they are," he said. "Now, why don't you find the doctor so I can get myself released."

"Yeah…sure," Dean said before turning toward the bed and gazing down at it's sleeping occupant. He straightened the sheets over Sam then turned and silently left the room.

John watched Dean go then turned his gaze upon his youngest son. He took Sam's hand and held it in his. "Sam…you are a brave, stupid kid you know that?" he whispered. He gingerly stood then eased himself down on the side of the bed. He stared down at his son and was overcome with emotion. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and pulled Sam's hand to his chest.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Sammy. I'll die before I let anybody hurt you ever again."

SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN

Dean sat behind the wheel of the Impala, green eyes watching the scene at the small, non-descript house across the street. The property was taped off with yellow police tape and a few police officers mingled about, taking notes and talking amongst themselves. They were paying special attention to the red truck parked in the driveway. The same red truck Dean recognized as the one that had hit his brother. Dean felt the sudden need to see the truck. From what he remembered seeing, Sam had been hit by the front drivers side bumper and thrown to the side of the street. If John in fact was right then there would be damage to the hood and windshield, not just the front bumper.

Dean eased the door open, the young man thankful for the thick bushes that lined the quiet street. He watched for a moment and when the coast was clear he rushed across the street and disappeared under the cover of the foliage beside the drive way. He crept toward the garage then stopped and crouched down in the bushes then waited for the cops to leave or look the other way so he could get a look at the truck. Finally, the two officers who were near the truck walked away toward the front door of the house.

Dean moved quietly out of the bushes and stood in front of the truck. What he saw nearly brought him to his knees. The front bumper was dented as he suspected it would be, but the damage didn't end there. The hood of the car had a deep, teenager sized dent in it and there was a crack in the windshield that indicated that something had hit it at a high rate of speed. The thing that nearly did Dean in though was the blood that was splattered on the windshield and the frame around the windshield.

Dean stumbled backward, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as bile rose in his throat. He swallowed against the sickness rising in him then squeezed his eyes shut. Tears welled in his eyes as he was confronted with the reality of the situation. Sam had died, just as John said he did. He'd been hit and thrown onto the hood of the truck then slammed into the left side of the windshield before he'd landed with bone crushing force onto the hard asphalt. As much as Dean wanted it to not be true, he couldn't deny that something horrible…something supernatural had occurred and Sam was right in the middle of it. That thought was what finally brought Dean back to the here and now. He heard voices and quickly ducked back into the bushes.

Dean moved back toward the street, but halted when a large tow truck rolled to a stop behind the red truck. He sighed when he realized he'd be stuck in the bushes until the truck had been loaded onto the flatbed tow truck and the police had left the scene. He wanted to get to the Impala so he could grab some of his gear, but realized that would be impossible at the moment. He made himself as comfortable as he could and settled in to wait for his chance to get into the house. He hoped that he would find something inside that would give him a clue as to what they were up against. As he waited, his thoughts went back to the truck and the damage he had found…the blood, Sam's blood splattered across the windshield. He wondered what the police thought about that. He wondered if they thought it was quite curious that there would be such damage to the vehicle, but the victim had survived.

Dean wondered about a lot of things while he sat and waited for his chance to get into the house. He wondered why Sam had been brought back. He wondered why he had had his memories changed, but John and Sam hadn't. He wondered why the truck had been left as it was and not changed to fit the new reality that he was living with now. He was fearful of the answers to his many questions, but a part of him…a big part of him, was thankful to whatever had pulled the feat off. He had lost his brother, that much was for sure, but then, he was given back to him. And as afraid as he was as to why this had happened, he couldn't be unhappy with the end result. Sam was alive and that was the most important thing. Nothing else mattered. They would deal with the rest of it when the time came.

Dean was pulled from his thoughts when the truck beyond the bushes where he hid began to move. He watched through the veil of leaves as the truck was pulled onto the flatbed of the tow truck. Within minutes, the truck was secured and the tow truck was pulling away down the street. It was another twenty minutes before all of the police cars had pulled away and the house was silent once again. Dean glanced through the bushes to where he had parked the Impala, but the chance that someone would come out of one of the houses was too great so instead of going to get his gear, he crept back through the foliage then slipped out of their cover and beside the garage of the house.

Dean eased himself along the side of the garage then silently made his way to the back door to the house. He made quick work of the lock and found himself inside the house in less than a minute. He stood inside a small, messy kitchen, but nothing really seemed out of place or of any interest so he move through the doorway into what he discovered was the livingroom. He crinkled his nose when the undeniable smell of alcohol and vomit reached him. He glanced around the room and soon found the source of the sickening odor. A puddle of vomit dirtied the carpet at the corner of a recliner that sat in front of a picture window across the room from him. Vomit also stained the side of the recliner and Dean could picture the scene in his head. Drunk guy gets sick and can't get out of his chair so he leans over and pukes over the arm of the chair. Gross.

"F***er was drunk," Dean hissed as he moved closer to the chair. He looked the chair over and noticed a deep stain on top of the armrest. He reached out and touched the stain then brought his fingers close to his face. His fingertips were stained red. Blood. This was where the bastard had been killed, the blood most likely coming from his nose or mouth when his neck had been snapped. Dean surveyed the area surrounding the chair, his nose suddenly crinkling again as another odor hit him. He followed the smell then noticed a thin layer of a powdery substance on the back rest of the chair. He brushed his fingers through the substance and brought them to his nose. His green eyes widened as realization hit and suddenly the situation became a whole lot scarier.

"Sulphur," he hissed as he pulled out his cellphone and hit speed dial one.

**Dun dun dun...so, getting a little bit clearer? I hope so. I'm going on a short road trip this weekend so I won't have a lot of time to write, but I've taken Monday and Tuesday off so I should be able to get a good start on the next chapter Sunday night and maybe...no promises...have it ready to post Monday or Tuesday. Take care all.**

**Cindy**


	4. Chapter 4

**I know, I know...why even bother posting now that its been so long since the last chapter. I'm so sorry. Work has just been brutal the past two weeks and by the time I get home I have no energy to even think about what to write. I've been working on the chapter little by little, but finally was able to sit down last night and really work on it. Thanks for sticking with me. Onto the story.**

**Cindy**

John paced beside Sam's bed, the man stopping often to check on his sleeping son. He'd gotten off the phone with Bobby an hour prior and the older hunter had promised to hit the books and phone immediately. Next, John had called Caleb and was happy to find out that he was only a few hours away. Caleb's job would be to get in to view the surveillance tapes. The hope was that some clue would be found on the tape, that maybe whatever had pulled Sam back had failed to alter the tape as it had altered the minds of so many people. John brought a hand to his throbbing head and squeezed his eyes shut as he once again stopped beside the bed. He opened his eyes and stared down as Sam moaned in his sleep. He reached down to touch Sam's face, but stopped when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

John reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. He glanced at the caller ID screen then flipped the phone open. "Dean, what did you find?" he asked with no preamble or pleasantries.

"It's not good, Dad," Dean's voice carried through the earpiece.

"What are we dealing with?" John said impatiently.

"It's a demon. The dick was killed by a demon," Dean answered solemnly.

"Son of a bitch," John hissed, his dark eyes moving to Sam's face as the boy scrunched up his nose, a sure sign that he was waking up. "Get back here, Dean," he commanded as he moved closer to the bed and reached for Sam's hand.

"Why? Is something wrong with Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice suddenly filled with concern.

"No, but he's waking up. Caleb should be getting here soon if he isn't already. He's going to check on the surveillance tapes," John answered.

"What about Bobby?" Dean queried.

"He's working on it. I'll give him a call and let him know what you found. Now, you need to get back here. If we've got a demon to deal with, we need to lock down this room tight," John said, dark eyes roaming the room, daddy defenses on high alert.

"Yes, sir," Dean said before the line went dead.

John flipped his phone shut and walked to the door of the room. He checked the thin salt line that had been laid then turned back toward Sam. Seeing hazel eyes blink open, he hurried back to the side of the bed.

"Hey, Sammy…how ya feeling?" John asked as he gazed down at his youngest son.

"Uh…I'm okay," Sam answered as he blinked up at his father.

"That's good, kiddo," John said as he sat next to Sam's hip and straightened the covers over Sam's chest.

Sam rolled his head on his pillow and glanced at the other side of the bed then rolled his head back. "Where's Dean?" he asked hoarsely.

John gazed down at his son and smiled. "He had some things to take care of, but he'll be here in a few minutes," John answered.

Sam nodded then gazed up at his father. "What happened to me, Dad?" he asked, hazel eyes wide and questioning.

John sighed as he reached for Sam's hand. "We don't know for sure, Sammy," he answered truthfully.

Sam bit his bottom lip and lowered his eyes. He fiddled with the blanket before returning his gaze to John. "I…I died didn't I?" he finally said.

John's heart skipped a beat, his emotions rising as the memory of Sam lying in the street, blood bubbling over his lips, resurfaced. He swallowed then cleared his throat. "Yeah, Sammy…you did," he finally answered.

Sam's eyes welled as he stared up at his father. A single tear spilled over and trailed down his cheek. "How…I…I don't understand, Dad. How am I still here?"

John stood and paced to the window. He stared out into the hospital parking lot and wondered what he could say that wouldn't scare his baby boy. Finally he turned and walked back to the bed. "Something brought you back, Sammy. We've got an idea, but we're not sure. That's what we're trying to find out," he said, the man deciding the truth was the best road to take.

"But…why?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. I can't say that I'm upset about it though," John answered as he sat down next to Sam.

"But, Dad…it's not right. It's not natural," Sam cried softly.

"Sammy…you're alive. I don't know what's going on, but I still have you and I can never be upset about that," John said.

Sam stared up at his father and John could see the fear in his eyes. He smiled down at the boy then took his hand. "It'll be okay, Sammy. You don't need to worry about it. All you need to do is rest and let us take care of everything."

Sam nodded and smiled slightly, but John could still see that he was scared. He was just about to say something when the door opened and Dean hurried into the room. John turned to look over his shoulder and watched as Dean immediately made his way to the other side of the bed. Dean and John shared a look before Dean looked down and met his brother's eyes.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, the young man doing his best to hide the quiver in his voice.

Sam furrowed his brow as he stared up at his brother. "Dean? What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"Nothing, kiddo. Just a little tired I guess," Dean answered, green eyes glancing up at John before returning to his brother.

"Liar," Sam mumbled.

Dean rolled his eyes, amazed that even as hurt as he was, Sam could still see right through him. Dean reached for Sam's hand and took it in his. "Okay, smarty pants. It's just, I…I…"

Sam squeezed Dean's hand and smiled up at him. "I know. It's okay, Dean," he said.

Dean squeezed back and this time, he couldn't cover the emotion in his voice. "I could have lost you, Sammy. When I think about it I…I just don't know. I couldn't live without you…that much I do know."

Sam stared up, dewy eyed and smiled again. John looked on, the man on the verge of tears as he watched the special bond between his sons grow even stronger. He stood and cleared his throat. "I'm gonna step out and make a call. I'll be right outside the room," he said.

"Sure, Dad. I'll keep an eye on Sammy," Dean said as he moved around the bed and took the spot that John had just vacated.

"I know you will," John said before opening the door and stepping into the hall.

Dean turned back to Sam and frowned as two frightened, hazel eyes stared up at him. He knew what Sam was feeling because he was feeling it too, but he could never let Sam know how freaked out he was. Sam needed him to be strong, needed him to do the job he did best…be his awesome big brother, the one who would walk through fire to protect him.

"Hey…Sammy…I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You know that, right?" he said, voice low and even.

"Yeah…I know, but…that's not…I know you won't…"

"What's wrong then?"

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. "Dean…I'm supposed to be dead. I…"

"Stop right now. You're not supposed to be dead so just shut up…"

"Why was I brought back? It can't be for good reasons, Dean. Whatever did this is supernatural and…and I guess I am now too," Sam said, his voice barely over a whisper.

Dean stood, his body shaking, green eyes narrowing as he glared down at his suddenly scared for a very different reason little brother. "Are you out of your f***ing mind! You're not supernatural, Sam! God! Sometimes I can't believe how dense you are!" he seethed as he began to pace the floor.

Sam watched Dean and tried to push himself up on the bed. He gasped as pain spiked through his leg, bringing Dean's rant to a sudden halt. Dean rushed to his side and gently pushed him back down.

"Sammy, what the hell? Keep still dammit!" he hissed.

Sam collapsed back against the mattress and stared up at his brother. "Dean…I'm sorry. You know that this can't be good though," he said softly.

Dean sighed as he sat down once more beside his brother. "All I know is you're alive, Sam. That's all I need to know. You being alive is a good thing," he said.

"I'm scared, Dean," Sam whispered, hazel eyes wide as he stared up at his brother.

"I know, Sammy, but Dad and I are going to take care of this," Dean said. Dean patted Sam's shoulder and adjusted the covers over the teen. "Get some sleep, Sammy…you look like crap."

"Jerk," Sam murmured, his lips curling up into a slight grin.

"Bitch," Dean shot back with his own smile.

"I don't wanna sleep…been sleeping too much," Sam mumbled.

"You gotta sleep, brat," Dean stated, hand affectionately brushing up and down Sam's arm.

"Please, Dean…I don't want to sleep." Pleading hazel eyes implored and that was all it took. Dean could never deny Sam when he looked at him that way and with everything that had happened, with everything that he had learned, he doubted he would ever be able to deny Sam anything no matter what look he gave him now. He could give him the bitch face he had perfected so well and Dean would still bend over backwards to give him exactly what he wanted. Sam gazed up at his brother and knew by the look on Dean's face that he had won.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said, his soft whisper pulling Dean from his thoughts.

Dean smiled down at his brother then furrowed his brow. "Sammy…is there a reason why you don't want to sleep?" he asked with concern.

"What? No…"

"Now who's lying? Why don't you want to sleep, Sammy?"

Sam rolled his head toward the window and sighed. "I keep seeing it…me dead…you and Dad crying. I don't want to see it anymore, Dean," he finally answered as he turned his face back toward his brother. "I don't want to see you like that…"

"Sammy…god, kid…I'm so sorry," Dean cried as he took his brother's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Sam looked up and shook his head. "No…I'm sorry. If I hadn't fought with Dad none of this would've happened. I don't know why I get so upset…I just…I…"

"You want something more than hunting," Dean interrupted.

Sam's eyes widened in surprise as he stared up at his brother. "You…"

"And you want what's important to you to be important to Dad."

Sam nodded slowly and fiddled nervously with the sheets that covered him. "Yeah. Is it too much? Me wanting to be normal once in a while?" Sam asked softly.

"No, Sammy. You deserve to have a normal life, but that's just not possible. I think maybe Dad is just trying to protect you…"

"Protect me from what?"

"I think maybe he doesn't want you to be disappointed and hurt. When we have to leave, you take it so hard and it hurts Dad. I know you don't think so, but it does. He really doesn't want this life for you…for us, Sammy, but he doesn't think he has a choice," Dean answered.

Sam nodded and looked away. "I know Dad loves me, Dean…he was crying over me. I just didn't think…before…"

"You didn't think Dad loved you?" Dean asked as he reached up and turned Sam's head so he could see his eyes. "He may be a hardass, but he loves you so much, Sam."

"I know he does. It just doesn't seem like he does sometimes."

"Hey…don't ever doubt how much he…how much we both love you, Sam."

Sam cocked his head and narrowed his eyes as he looked up at his brother. "Did you just initiate a chick flick moment, Dean?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I hate you, you little brat," Dean hissed.

"No…you love me…you said so," Sam replied.

"Shut up, bitch!"

"Love you too, jerk."

SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN

"Okay, Bobby…thanks," John said before flipping his phone shut, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and turned back toward Sam's room.

He just reached Sam's door when his name being called caused him pause and turn to look down the hallway. Caleb rushed up to him, face flushed, and stopped beside him,

"Johnny, you gotta see this recording," Caleb said breathlessly, one hand supporting himself on the wall.

"What's up with you? Why you so outa breath?" John asked, his eyebrow quirked in confusion.

"Didn't want to wait for the elevator…ran up all the stairs," Caleb gasped.

"What? Why?" John queried.

"The surveillance recordings…I can't explain it," Caleb answered, breathing returning to normal. "I mean, it could be any number of things, but…"

"What're you talking about, Caleb?"

"Just…let's get in the room and I'll show you."

John eyed his friend then pushed the door open and allowed Caleb to enter before following him in. Dean looked up from where he was busy setting up extra protections around the room and nodded toward the two men. He held a finger to his lips and looked over toward the bed. John glanced over at his youngest and smiled at seeing that Sam was once again sleeping.

"He fought it pretty hard…been having nightmares…but he couldn't fight the pain meds for very long," Dean whispered as he shook Caleb's hand.

Caleb glanced over at the young teen in the bed and frowned at the shape his young friend was in. "Geez, I'd hate to have seen him before…" he started, but stopped, realizing that he didn't need to remind the other's of what had happened the night before. "Sorry…I shouldn't have…"

"It's okay, Caleb. It's not like we could ever forget what he looked like last night," John said, dark eyes resting on Sam's peaceful face. Finally, he turned to the younger man and pulled him to the corner of the room. "You said you'd show me what you found so, lets see it," he said.

Caleb pulled his laptop from his bag and set it on the counter behind him. He glanced over as Dean stepped up beside him then turned back to his computer. "Okay, I was able to load the video onto my computer. Just give it a sec to run," he said as he waited for the video to come up. Finally, the video loaded and the picture came to life.

"Okay, this one is from the camera in the ambulance bay…now watch," Caleb continued as he and the Winchesters watched the video.

The video clearly showed an ambulance pull into the bay then a paramedic, which both John and Dean recognized, jumped from the front seat. He hurried to the back of the ambulance then opened the back doors. Suddenly, just as the gurney holding Sam came into view, the picture began to jump as if the some sort of interference had invaded the camera.

"Caleb, what the hell is that!" Dean snapped, green eyes turning to his friend before returning to the computer screen.

"I don't know, but here, let me back it up a bit," Caleb said before reversing the recording then restarting it again. "Now look, right there," he said, his finger pointing out a man standing about fifteen feet from the ambulance.

John squinted his eyes and leaned in closer to the screen. He glanced over at Caleb once the interference started again and cocked his head. "Yeah…so?" he said.

"Okay, that's all there is from the ambulance bay, now I'll start the ER video," Caleb said. He brought up a new video, one that showed the waiting area for the ER. John and Dean could clearly be seen, John slumped in a chair, eyes staring intently at the doors that separated the exam rooms from the waiting room. Dean paced restlessly in front of his father until John reached up and grasped his arm before pulling him into the seat beside him. Not long after Dean sat the doctor came out and both men stood. They spoke for a few minutes before John reached out and shook the man's hand. Dean's face held a relieved smile as the two Winchesters followed the doctor through the waiting room and down the hall until they were out of sight.

John stood and looked over at his son. "That's not how it went down…that video isn't real," he said. "Whatever is responsible for bringing Sammy back changed the video somehow," he continued.

"Well, I think we may have something on the video," Caleb said. He restarted the video, but put it on slow motion. "There," he said, stopping the video so the other two hunters could see what he had found.

Dean leaned in and examined the video. "That's the same dude from the ambulance bay," he said.

"Yeah, now keep watching," Caleb said as he started the video again in extra slow motion.

John and Dean watched before John suddenly pulled back, dark eyes widening as he stared over at Caleb. "What the hell is that?" he asked gruffly.

"I was hoping you'd be able to tell me," Caleb said in reply as he backed up the video then started it again, stopping it so the face of the man was frozen on the screen.

Dean continued to stare at the screen and the man who stared back at the camera. The man with the glowing yellow eyes.

**So, did that make up for the lateness? I sure hope so. Just like a lot of my other stories...okay, most of my other stories...this one is taking on a life of its own. It was supposed to be a two shot, then a three shot, but now its looking like it may be a five or six shot. Hope you don't mind :) Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yeah, I know. No excuses...just...imagination on hiatus. Brain went on vacation to a different part of the country? Well, whatever the case, I'm back. Here is the next chapter.**

**Cindy**

_The man with the glowing yellow eyes._

Dean turned away from the screen at the sound of Caleb's voice.

"So, at first I thought shapeshifter, but I've never heard of a shapeshifter that can bring a person back to life or alter memories," Caleb said as his eyes moved back to the still shot on the screen.

"It's not a shapeshifter. I'm thinking it may be a demon," John said, dark eyes glancing over to make sure that Sam was still sleeping before he returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"A demon? Where did you come up with that?" Caleb queried.

"It was a demon that killed the bastard who hit Sammy," Dean offered.

"So, is it possible for a demon to return life to someone? And to change people's memories?" Caleb asked. "If so, why? Why Sam?"

"I've got Bobby working on it. He seems to think he remembers something in one of his books that could help us," John answered. "I have no idea why Sam was brought back," he continued, voice tinged with confusion and fear.

"I don't like the sound of this, Johnny. If a demon brought Sam back, then it wants something from him. It's not going to do it out of the goodness of its heart," Caleb said as he glanced over at his young, sleeping friend.

"I know…I just don't know what a demon could possibly want from Sam." John paced in agitation behind his friend and son, trembling hand brushing through his disheveled hair. He stepped up to the side of Sam's bed and gazed down upon the teens face. "I won't let it get what it wants, that's for sure," he whispered as he reached down and took Sam's hand.

"Dad?" Dean asked softly as he stepped up next to his father. "What if…what…" he stammered as he stared at his father's profile with wide, frightened eyes.

John glanced over and frowned at the fear in his son's eyes. "What is it, Dean?" he asked as he released Sam's hand and turned fully to face the young man.

"Could…could this be the thing that killed Mom? Could it have been after Sammy all along?" Dean asked, sudden dread filling his heart at the thought that his baby brother was somehow the target of whatever had killed their mother.

John's face blanched, the idea never occurring to him before Dean mentioned it. He dropped down on the chair behind him and brushed his hand over his face. He looked up into Dean's expectant eyes and shook his head. "I don't know…I guess it could be, but again…why? Sammy was only six months old. What could a demon possibly want with him?" he finally answered, his heart racing in his chest at the idea of possibly being so close to his Mary's killer.

Dean, seeing the slight change in his father's demeanor, squared his shoulders and glared down at his father. "Don't, Dad…don't you dare do it," he hissed.

John arched a brow and stared up at his son. "Don't do what, Dean? What the hell are you talking about?" he asked as he stood and faced the suddenly angry young man.

"I know you…you're already turning this into a hunt for whatever killed Mom. This is about Sammy, not Mom. He comes first!" Dean snapped.

John narrowed his eyes and took a step toward his son. "I'm thinking about Sam, but if this is the thing that killed your mother, we have to pursue it…especially if it was there for Sam!" he responded.

"Dad, if this is a demon, we need to get Sammy as far away from here as we can!"

"Do you really think that running will keep Sam safe? This thing found him here, what makes you think it won't find him again?"

"Um…guys…"

"Caleb, keep out of this!" John snapped.

"John…you need to…"

"I said keep out of it!" John shouted as he turned on his friend.

Caleb narrowed his eyes and pointed toward the bed. John turned and swallowed when he saw two frightened, hazel eyes staring up at him. "Sammy…hey," he said softly as he smiled nervously down at his son.

"D-Dad…what's going on? Why are you and Dean fighting?" Sam asked meekly, wide eyes moving from his father's face to Dean's and back again.

John took Sam's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "It's nothing, Sammy. Why don't you go back to sleep," he said in reply.

"You were fighting about me…I heard my name, Dad," Sam cried softly.

Dean moved up and smiled down at his brother. "Sammy, it's nothing to worry about, okay? We're not fighting…we're discussing," the young man said.

Caleb stepped forward and draped an arm over each hunter's shoulders. "Why don't you two take your discussion to the cafeteria. I'll stay here with half pint while you get something to eat," he suggested, though the rough squeeze he gave each man's shoulder indicated it was more than just a suggestion.

"I'm not hungry," Dean grumbled as he tried to pull away from the older hunter.

"When was the last time you ate, Dean? Yesterday afternoon?" Caleb asked as he eased the two hunters away from the bed.

"Caleb, I swear if you don't let me go…"

"Dean, you need to eat and you both need to keep your discussions away from Sam. Poor kid is stressed enough, don't you think?" Caleb said quietly.

Dean sighed and glanced over at his friend. "I don't want to leave him…"

"I'll be here. I'm not going to let anything happen to the kid…you know I'd die before I let something happen to him," Caleb said.

"Caleb's right, Dean. We need to eat and we need clear things up before we come back here," John said as he pulled away from Caleb's grip.

"But, Dad…"

"We won't be gone long and Caleb will take good care of Sammy," John insisted.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and smiled when he saw that Sam was once again fighting sleep. The kid needed sleep and watching his father and brother go at each other was not going to help him with that at all. Dean turned back to the older men and nodded. "Fine, but no more than an hour," he said.

"Good…now you two get things worked out and get your bellies filled," Caleb commanded as he guided the two hunters toward the door.

Dean rolled away from Caleb and stepped toward Sam's bed. He smiled down at the tired face that gazed up at him. "Hey, kiddo…Dad and I are going down to get a bite to eat. Caleb's gonna sit with you while we're gone, okay?" he said.

"Is everything okay, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Yeah…everything is fine. Don't worry," Dean replied.

"Dean…"

"It's fine, Sammy. Just get some rest. Dad and I will be back in an hour."

"'kay," Sam whispered as he dropped his eyes and stared at his hands that he had resting on his stomach.

Dean sighed then turned and walked to the door. He looked at Caleb and nodded. Caleb nodded in return, no words needing to be said. "_Watch out for Sammy." "You know I will." _Dean and John reluctantly left the room, Dean with one last glance over his shoulder before the door shut behind him. Caleb turned and walked to the bed, the hunter smiling down at the young teen who gazed up at him.

"Hey, half pint…how ya feelin'?" Caleb asked as he sat on the edge of the bed next to Sam's hip. "And remember, you don't have to put on a brave face with me," he added.

"My leg hurts…and my chest does a little too," Sam answered with a small shrug.

"Well, no surprise about your leg. Compound fractures are a bitch," Caleb said. "But your chest? I didn't realize you had hurt your chest."

"I…I think it may be…oh, never mind," Sam mumbled, his head rolling on the pillow so he could stare out the window.

"What, Sam? You need to tell me," Caleb said as he reached down and gently pulled Sam's head around so he could see his face.

Sam swallowed before glancing up at his friend. "In my dream…or whatever…my chest was crushed. I think maybe it's phantom pain or something," he finally said.

Caleb dropped his eyes, remembering the story John had told him about the 'other' reality. He shuddered to think of this teen whom he loved like a little brother lying dead in the street, his heart and lungs crushed by the force of impact with the speeding truck. Hatred for the man who had hit Sam flowed through him like a wave and he had to take a deep breath to tamp the anger down. He finally looked up and met Sam's eyes.

"I'm sure that's what it is, kiddo. Now, how about you get some rest," Caleb said.

"Caleb, what were Dad and Dean fighting about?" Sam asked and Caleb sighed, the hunter having hoped to avoid this particular question.

"Sammy, they weren't fighting. They're both just really stressed out right now with everything that's going on…they're really worried about you," Caleb answered.

"They were fighting and they were fighting about me. I heard them, Caleb," Sam said.

"They were just trying to figure out what's going on and they have slightly different ideas on how to take care of things. The one thing that they do agree on though is you. No matter what happens, you come first…to both of them," Caleb explained, hopeful that his explanation would be enough.

Sam considered Caleb's words before he looked back up at the hunter. "Why were they talking about Mom?" he asked.

"Uh…I…" Caleb started, but was saved when the door to Sam's room opened and a nurse quietly walked in.

Caleb smiled and nodded as the nurse closed the door, then frowned when she looked down and started to brush at the salt line just inside the door with her foot. Caleb stood and faced the nurse and shrugged when she looked up at him with questioning eyes.

"What is this?" the nurse asked, hands moving to her hips as she eyed the hunter suspiciously.

Caleb looked down at the salt line and grinned innocently at the nurse. "Uh…that is…that's a salt line," he finally said.

"A salt line? For what?" the nurse queried.

"Well, you see…John Winchester is very superstitious. Comes all the way down from his grandpappy. Salt is supposed to repel evil and well…" Caleb answered with a shrug.

The nurse looked down at her feet then glanced back up at Caleb. "Why in front of the door?" she asked.

"John was taught that by laying a salt line across any entrance to a room, you can keep evil out. I know, it sounds crazy, but if it helps him believe that Sam here is safer, then what can it hurt?" Caleb explained.

The nurse seemed to consider Caleb's words then gave a short nod. She strolled to the other side of the bed and checked Sam's leg then his vitals. "How are you doing, sweetie? Any pain?" she asked with a kind, gentle smile.

"I'm okay," Sam said shyly, hazel eyes glancing up from beneath feathery lashes.

"Uh…he just told me his leg is hurting him. I'm afraid he thinks he has to be brave and not show pain to make his daddy and brother feel better," Caleb objected as he glanced down and smiled as Sam glared up at him.

"Oh, honey…you don't have to be in pain. Your father and brother don't want you to be in pain," the nurse said sympathetically.

Sam glanced up at the nurse and smiled sadly. "I just don't want to sleep anymore…I have bad dreams when I sleep," he whispered.

"About the accident?" the nurse asked.

Sam nodded and glanced over at Caleb when the hunter gently squeezed his arm. "Hey, half pint…maybe the doctor can give you a different pain medicine…one that doesn't make you so sleepy?" he said as he looked up at the nurse.

The nursed nodded and smiled down at her young patient when he turned pleading eyes her way. Her heart melted at that moment and she wondered if anybody was able to deny the boy when he looked at them that way. She figured most likely not. "I'll see what I can do, but for right now I'll have to give you what's already been prescribed. I'll give you a lower dose though until I talk to your doctor. Does that sound okay with you?" she asked.

"Okay…that's fine," Sam replied, the pain in his leg overshadowing his fear of sleep at the moment.

"Good…I'll give you a three quarter dose then. It's still going to make you sleepy, but you won't sleep as deep," the nurse said.

Sam nodded and watched as she administered the dose to his IV line. She straightened the sheets around him, smiled then left the room. Sam watched her leave then looked up at Caleb. Caleb saw the accusation in his eyes and held his hands up.

"Look, squirt…you're daddy and brother would have my hide if they found out I knew you were in pain and didn't say something. No offense, but I'm more afraid of them than I am of you," Caleb said.

Sam sighed and dropped his eyes to where Caleb had rested his hand on his leg. "I'm sorry…I know you're just looking out for me. I just don't want to see it again, Caleb. I don't want to see them…" Sam's voice trailed off as he began to fiddle with the sheets that covered him.

"Hey…I understand, but you can't lie here in pain either. None of us can stand seeing you in pain, squirt," Caleb said sympathetically.

"I know…I'm being selfish again. I…"

"You're the least selfish person I know, Sam, so don't even go there," Caleb warned.

Sam gazed up at his friend and nodded. His eyes moved toward the door when it suddenly opened and Dean and John walked in. He shook his head, but smiled when Dean came around the other side of the bed.

"That wasn't even close to an hour," Caleb said accusingly.

"I said no more than an hour, not that I'd be gone an hour. If you don't like it then you can just leave," Dean snapped, his attention fully on his little brother.

"I'm just saying you couldn't have eaten and everything in that short of time," Caleb shot back.

"It's fine, Caleb. We got things worked out," John said as he clapped Caleb's shoulder. "Thanks for watching Sammy."

"You don't need to thank me, Johnny, you know that," Caleb said. "Kid just had a shot of pain meds so he'll probably be checking out soon," he added.

Dean narrowed his eyes as he stared down at his brother. "You in pain, Sam? Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, voice filled with concern.

"I'm okay, Dean. My leg was hurting a little, but it feels better now," Sam said.

"You need to speak up when you're hurting, kiddo," Dean scolded as he hooked a chair and pulled it close then sat down, his eyes never leaving his brother's face.

"Yeah, well I guess he learned from the pros to hide his pain, now didn't he?" Caleb quipped.

"Shut up, butthead," Dean grumbled.

"Kiss my…"

"Okay, that's enough," John snapped as he nudged Caleb off the edge of the bed and took his place next to his baby.

"Sorry, sir," Dean murmured.

John nodded then turned toward Caleb. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the key to the motel room he and his boys had been staying in. "Here, Caleb…go get some sleep. When you come back, maybe you could bring us some real food?" he said.

Caleb took the key and nodded. "Sure. Anything in particular?" he asked.

"As long as it's greasy and has lots of onions, I'm happy," Dean called.

"Okay…greasy and lots of onions for Dean. What about you, Johnny?"

"Greasy sounds good to me too," John answered absently.

"Okey dokey," Caleb said before stepping up to the side of the bed. He smiled down at his young friend. "Sorry, half pint, can't bring you anything," he said apologetically.

"That's okay, Caleb," Sam replied sleepily.

"Okay…I'll see you in a few hours then," Caleb said. He patted Sam's shoulder then turned and left the room.

John gazed down at his son and sighed. "Hey, Sammy…I never got the chance to thank you…so…thanks," he said gruffly as he took the boy's hand in his.

"Thank me for what?" Sam asked, a perplexed look crossing his young face.

"You saved my life, kiddo," John answered.

"Oh…you don't need to thank me for that, Dad…that's what family does," Sam murmured.

"Yeah, well if I hadn't been such a jerk, you wouldn't have had to throw yourself in front of that truck," John said.

Sam's eyes widened in astonishment at his father's words. "But, Dad…I…"

"You were right, Sam. I was planning on leaving for the other hunt early so you couldn't participate in your debate. I was in the wrong and I nearly lost you because of my selfishness," John explained.

"What? But…why?" Sam asked softly.

Dean's green eyes moved up to his father's face and waited for the man to answer. Rarely did John admit that he was wrong and he couldn't wait to hear his father's explanation. He was pretty sure he knew what it would be, having already told Sam his thoughts on the matter, but he wanted to hear it from his father's own mouth.

"Sammy," John started hesitantly. "I just don't think it's a good idea for you to get so involved in school activities when you know we're just going to be moving on, but…it's my fault for allowing you to join the debate club in the first place. I shouldn't allow it then rip it out from under you," he continued.

"So, you're just not going to let me join anything at all? Is that what you're saying?" Sam asked, his voice angry despite how tired he felt.

"It just doesn't fit in with our lifestyle, Sam. I don't know why you even bother when…"

"Because it makes me happy, Dad. That's why I bother, because for a short time, I'm doing something that really makes me happy," Sam interrupted, the anger in his voice replaced by sadness.

"Sammy…" Dean started, only to be cut off by his brother's soft, tired voice.

"I don't love hunting like you and Dean do…I'm sorry, I just don't. Is it so wrong that I don't? Does it make me selfish that I enjoy something other than hunting?"

John shook his head and sighed. He so hated to hear the sadness in his baby's voice and knowing that he put it there made it even worse. He wished that he could make a different life for his boys, but he couldn't and that was all there was too it.

"No, kiddo…you're not selfish and you're not wrong for wanting something different sometimes. It's just…I hate to see the disappointment in your eyes every time you have to leave another school behind…but, that's my selfishness. I want you to be happy…I really do. When you threw yourself in front of that truck…when you pushed me out of the way, I knew…I knew I was wrong to think that you cared more about school than you did about your family. I never saw it for what it was…you're way of making this life bearable, if only for a short time. I'm sorry, Sam…I'm so sorry," John said, his eyes dropping in shame to his lap.

Sam squeezed his father's hand and smiled warmly when John raised his dark eyes to meet his. "Dad, it's okay. You were just looking out for me. I'm sorry I'm such a little brat sometimes," he said.

"Little?" Dean mumbled, lips curled up into a grin.

Sam rolled his head on his pillow and glared at his brother. "Jerk," he said before being overtaken by a huge yawn.

"You need to get some sleep, Sam. Your brother and I will be right here so…"

"Dad…is it a demon?" Sam suddenly asked, effectively cutting off his father's words.

"Uh…why are you asking that?" John asked, dark eyes glancing up to meet Dean's before looking back down at his son.

"Because, you've salted the door and I imagine the window too. A spirit couldn't pull off what happened and I'm pretty sure that just leaves a demon," Sam answered, hazel eyes gazing up expectantly.

"Uh…yeah…we think it's probably a demon. Bobby's working on some research for us so we're hoping to know more by tomorrow," John answered truthfully as he knew his son was too smart to be fooled by any fib he could come up with.

"Why would a demon bring me back? That doesn't make sense. You and Dean were talking about Mom…does it have something to do with that?" Sam asked as he fought desperately to keep his eyes open.

"Sam…you need to rest. We'll talk about this later," John instructed, the father not ready to have this conversation just yet.

"Is the thing that brought me back the same thing that killed Mom?"

"Sam…"

"Dad…am I the reason Mom died?"

**That's all for now. I really will try to not make you wait so long for the next update (which will hopefully be the final chapter), but I can't promise that my brain will cooperate. It seems to have a plan of its own lately. A huge thanks to everyone who has left reviews and I'm sorry I haven't been good about responding individually to them. I truly appreciate each and every comment! Love you all.**

**Cindy**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, this is it. The final chapter. My two-shot kind of got away from me. I hope you all don't mind :) Thanks to everyone for reading and sending me your comments. I truly appreciate it. So, lets get to the end...it's a long one. **

**Cindy**

"_Is the thing that brought me back the same thing that killed Mom?" _

"_Sam…"_

"_Dad…am I the reason Mom died?"_

Dean gasped and looked up at his father. John was pale, his face drained of all color, dark eyes wide with shock. Dean swallowed as he watched John reign in his emotions, something that Dean could see was extremely difficult for his father. Things always were when it came to Mary. John didn't like to talk about her for a reason…the pain of her loss was still a constant companion and any reminder caused the pain to grow. But, John had a son to consider…a son who was gazing up at him with sad, expectant eyes…a son who needed him to take his fears away.

"Sammy…"

"Is that the reason you love Dean more than me?"

"What? Sam…I don't…"

"Dad…I know…it's okay. I didn't understand before, but now I do. She died in my nursery, above my crib. It had to be because of me. Why…"

"Stop, Sam. You aren't the reason your mother died and I don't love Dean more than you. God…I love you so damned much, squirt. Yeah, I get frustrated with you and your stubbornness, but you get that from your mother and as much as it drives me crazy, it's one of the things I love about you. I'd die for you, kiddo…and now I know you'd do the same thing for me," John explained, his heart hurting at the thought of Sam believing he wasn't as loved as his brother.

Sam's eyes glistened as he stared up at his father. He blinked his tired eyes as he squeezed his father's hand. "I love you too, Dad…so much," he whispered before rolling his head and gazing up at his brother. Dean smiled and shook his head as he reached out and ruffled Sam's hair.

"You don't need to say it, Sammy…I already know. And you know I do too," Dean said as he stared down affectionately at his brother.

Sam smiled tiredly up at his brother. "I know," he whispered.

"Get some sleep, kiddo. You need your rest if you want to get out of here any time soon," John said as he continued to hold Sam's hand.

"'kay, Dad," Sam replied. He yawned as he closed his eyes and within seconds he was sleeping the sleep of the extremely exhausted and drugged.

John glanced up from his son's face to meet that of his other son. Dean shook his head and stepped back from the bed. "Geez, Dad…how long do you think he's had it in his head that you didn't love him as much as you love me?" he asked in a hushed voice.

John drew in a deep breath then slowly let it out, the act doing little to calm his fraying nerves. He looked back down at Sam and sighed. "I guess probably about the time I stopped treating him like a son and started treating him like a draftee in my personal war. I really didn't give him much of a choice but to think what he did, Dean," he finally answered.

"But, Dad…you…"

"I know what you're going to say, Dean, but it isn't the same thing. You love what we do…I've never had to force you into anything, but Sammy…I've forced this life onto him and just expect him to embrace it like you did. I yell at him because he gets excited about good grades when I should be telling him how proud I am of him…and I am proud, but for some reason I don't tell him that. I tell him that grades don't matter, that taking first place at the Science Fair is no big deal. I ask him why he can't be more like you…I've called him a screw-up," John ranted as he began to pace next to the bed.

Dean came around the bed and stopped his father. "Dad…you're doing the best you can. You…"

"Tell that to Sammy," John grumbled disgustedly.

Dean glanced down at Sam and brushed his hand over his face. "Sammy will be fine…he knows you love him, Dad," he said.

"Yeah, well…we'll see. I'm gonna fix things with the kid, but first I've got to figure out what the hell is going on…make sure Sammy's safe," John said.

"So, how do we do that?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. The one thing I do know is that who ever that yellow eyed son of a bitch is…he ain't getting near my family again!"

**SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN**

**Two Weeks Later**

"You sure you'll be okay here on the couch, Sammy?" Dean asked as he gently pushed a pillow underneath Sam's casted leg.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam said, hazel eyes rolling as his brother tucked a small blanket around his legs.

"Last thing I need is for you to catch a cold, princess. I ain't cooking you chicken soup and I'm for sure not wiping your snotty nose," Dean quipped, lips curled into a slight grin.

"Yes you will…you know you will," Sam chuckled, the teen turning his head so he could peer out the window of their latest home. He furrowed his brow as he watched his father walking along the treeline that hid the small cabin from the dirt road they had driven in on. "What's Dad doing?" he asked as he turned back to face Dean.

Dean glanced out the window then back at his brother. "He's checking the perimeter," he answered truthfully.

Sam sighed and dropped his gaze to his lap. "He still thinks that the demon may be coming after me doesn't he?" he asked softly.

"We don't know, Sammy…we're just being careful. Until Bobby can find something on what we're dealing with, we have to take the necessary precautions to keep you safe," Dean replied.

"I don't get it, Dean. If I'm in danger from this demon, why did it save me in the first place?" Sam asked.

"Another thing we don't know. But the fact that it did save you means it's a threat. Demons don't just save people unless they have a reason," Dean said.

Sam looked up and gripped Dean's forearm, stopping the young man from straightening the blanket for the fifth time. "Dean, if Dad was so worried, why didn't we just go to Bobby's? Why come out here in the middle of nowhere?" he asked.

"He didn't want to be on the road for too long. Makes it too easy for an attack. He figured if he found a place close we could get moved in and have the place locked down and tightened up before anything could go down," Dean answered.

"But why all the way out here in the woods?"

"Less civilians in the way I guess," Dean said as he dug through his duffel bag and pulled out a container of salt. He began to lay down salt lines, all the while keeping one eye on his baby brother.

"If something goes down, it's just us Dean. I can't do anything…so really, it's just you and Dad…"

"Hasn't that always been enough, Sammy?" Dean asked as he stopped what he was doing and turned to face his brother.

"Yeah…you know what I mean though. I don't want anything to happen to you or Dad," Sam said softly.

"Nothings gonna happen, Sammy. Besides, Caleb and Josh are on their way back from their hunt. We won't be alone," Dean said.

"I guess…"

"Sammy…don't worry. We've got it covered," Dean said as he moved back to the couch and crouched down next to his brother.

"I know you do…I just…I'm scared, Dean." Sam hung his head, the teen ashamed to admit to his brother that he was afraid.

"Hey…look at me, Sam…look at me," Dean demanded as he reached out and lifted Sam's face up. Soft hazel eyes slowly looked up and locked on Dean's green ones. "I'm afraid too, Sam. So is Dad. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I don't believe you," Sam whispered.

"No? Well, we are. We always are when you're safety is on the line."

"But, you're both always so calm and cool…"

"We have to be, Sammy. Mistakes can happen if we let our fear take over. We can't take that chance…not when it comes to you," Dean said.

"I don't know how you do it, Dean."

Dean cocked his head to the side and eyed his brother curiously. "Do what?" he asked.

"This," Sam answered, arms gesturing in front of him. "You and Dad…its like you were born to hunt. Like you thrive on it. Why are we so different? I don't get it," he continued.

"Sam…we're not that different."

"Yes we are. I have nothing to contribute. I just…"

"Whoa…what do you mean you have nothing to contribute? We'd be dead in the water without your research skills…"

"You can go to Bobby for research. I have nothing unique to contribute, okay?"

"Sammy…for petes sake. Everything about you is unique. Nobody…not even Bobby…can research like you. You do research, train, hunt and still you manage to get straight A's! None of us could do that…none of us would care to do that. But you care…about everything. You care about everyone. I seriously don't know how you do it and stay sane. You amaze me, okay?"

"Dean…you're just saying that," Sam whispered, eyes dropping back to his lap.

"No, I'm not. Give yourself some credit, Sammy."

Sam looked up and smiled sadly. "Thanks, Dean," he whispered even more softly than before.

Dean smiled fondly at his brother then shook his head. "So, can we put this nonsense to rest now? We all have something to contribute, Sammy…each and every one of us," he said, eyebrow raised as he watched his little brother.

Finally, Sam nodded. "Yeah…okay," he replied.

"Okay then. I'm gonna finish getting this place ready then I'm gonna head outside to help Dad. You need anything?" Dean queried as he went back to laying salt lines.

"No…I think I'm just going to take a nap," Sam answered as he relaxed back against the pillow Dean had placed behind him.

"Okay, Sammy…you get some rest," Dean said, the young man smiling warmly when he glanced over and found Sam already out for the count. "Stupid kid," he whispered to himself before getting to work putting the finishing touches on the protections he'd placed about the room.

Once he was done, Dean walked over to where Sam lay sleeping and pulled the thin blanket up higher over his chest. He watched the teen for a few moments then walked to the door. He stepped out onto the small porch and closed the door quietly behind him. He spotted his father on the other side of the Impala and made his way down the few steps then across the small yard. He watched as John flipped his cell phone shut and shoved it into his jacket pocket, the man gazing out over the thin covering of trees that surrounded them.

"Who was that, Dad?" Dean asked as he stepped up to his father.

"Josh…they've been delayed. Looks like it's just the three of us for a while longer," John answered.

"They okay?" Dean queried worriedly.

"Yeah…guess there's a big wreck on the highway…traffics backed up for miles. They're gonna try to backtrack and go around," John replied as he turned toward the small cabin. "How's Sammy?"

"He's sleeping," Dean replied.

"You got the cabin all set?"

"You know I do, Dad. You think I'd leave Sammy in there alone if I didn't?"

"You check for demon sign inside?"

"Yes, Dad. There's no demons in there and there's no way any will get inside."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I know you've got things covered. I'm going crazy with this whole thing. The sooner we can take care of this bastard the better."

"It's okay, Dad. I know how you feel. I hate everything about this. I just want it over with," Dean said.

"Yeah…well, we better get inside. I don't like having Sammy out of my sight for very long," John said. "Pull the Impala up closer and we'll get out gear inside."

"Yes, sir," Dean said.

John nodded and stepped around the car as Dean got behind the wheel. He walked to the porch steps and waited for Dean to pull up. Together, they got all of their gear out of the trunk and into the cabin, all without waking the youngest member of their family. John dragged an old chair across the room and sat it next to the couch near Sam's head then walked across the room to the kitchen area.

"You sit. I'm gonna fix us something to eat," John instructed as he pulled supplies from a box he'd placed on the counter.

Soon, John and Dean were feasting on cold bologna sandwiches and potato chips and washing it all down with orange sodas. Both would have preferred a beer, and yes John on occasion would allow his underage son to partake, but not when they had a very important job to do…the most important job…protect Sam. No, soda was as strong as it got when so much was on the line. The men finished their meal in silence then John stood and moved next to the window above the couch. The sky was already dark and John was beginning to second guess his decision to bring his sons out into the woods as opposed to staying in town. He'd feel better about the situation if Caleb and Josh were there, but that couldn't be helped now. They'd get there when they could. John shook his head against his thoughts. He was right to leave the town. If there was an attack, there would be fewer witnesses, fewer potential victims to worry about. There was only one person that he and Dean needed to worry about and he would not allow anybody to distract them from what they had to do.

John turned to look over his shoulder when he sensed movement and smiled slightly when he saw Dean beside him. He turned back to look out the window and frowned when he thought he saw movement just past the Impala. He leaned in closer to the glass and craned his neck, looking from left to right, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Dad…what is it?" Dean asked as he placed his hand on John's shoulder.

John glanced around and smiled when he saw the gun drawn in Dean's other hand. "I don't know…maybe nothing. Thought I saw something move, but now I don't see anything," he replied as he moved toward the door.

Dean moved up behind his father, but stopped when John turned and shook his head. "You stay with Sammy…I'll be right back," John instructed.

"But, Dad…what if it's the demon? You can't go out there alone…"

"Dean…we can't leave Sam alone."

"Dad…"

"If something happens…to both of us…and Sammy wakes up? He'll find a way to get off that couch and out the door and then what? He'll be at the mercy of the demon."

Dean looked over at his sleeping brother and nodded. "Yeah…okay. Be careful," he finally said.

"You know I will…watch out for your brother," John replied.

"Yeah…of course."

John nodded and stepped out onto the porch then pulled the door shut behind him. Dean moved to the window and watched as John, gun drawn and ready, stepped off of the porch and disappeared around the corner of the cabin. Dean continued to watch, waiting with bated breath for his father to reappear. When several minutes passed and John failed to appear, Dean began to get extremely nervous. Finally, he pulled out his phone and punched in Caleb's number. He listened to the ringing, the young man sighing with relief when the call was answered.

"Caleb…how far out are you?" Dean asked hastily, green eyes scouring the darkness outside for his father.

"_Kid, what's wrong?" _Caleb's voice called on the other end of the line.

"I don't know…Dad saw something. He went out to investigate and he hasn't come back. He told me to stay with Sammy, but…I can't just leave him out there. When are you gonna get here?" Dean cried, voice verging on panic.

_"You do what your daddy told you and stay with half pint. We'll be there as soon as we can…"_

"Caleb, he's out there all alone! I can't just sit here while he's…he…he could be hurt!"

_"Dean, I get it, okay? But your little brother needs you with him. We'll be there…we're almost to the turnoff."_

Dean glanced over as Sam moaned softly in his sleep. He knew his friend was right, that he should just do as his father told him, but the hunter in him told him he needed to act. His father could be in real trouble and he was just sitting inside, doing nothing. Decision made, he turned his attention back to the call.

"Caleb, I've got to help Dad. The cabin is protected…Dad isn't. Just get here…fast!" Dean ended the call, cutting off the shout of protest from his friend. He reached over the couch and pulled the curtain shut then he looked down at his brother. Sam had settled once again and Dean was certain the teen wouldn't wake. He started for the door, but hesitated, his father's voice sounding in his head. He shook his head and resumed his journey to the door. He pulled the door open then sent one last glance his brother's way before stepping out onto the porch and pulling the door shut behind him.

Dean stepped to the edge of the porch and scanned the area just past the Impala. He saw nor heard nothing and his heart rose in his throat at the implications. He wanted to call out for his father, but he knew better than to alert any potential enemy to his presence. Instead, he carefully descended the steps and looked around again once he was on the ground. He held his revolver in his right hand as he eased around the Impala, wide eyes scanning the darkness, ever ready for any movement. He quietly crept around the side of the cabin in the direction his father had gone, but still he saw nothing. He moved around the back of the cabin and gazed out to the trees in the near distance. He began to ease along the back of the cabin when suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder. He spun around, revolver at the ready, a startled yelp escaping his lips.

"Dean! It's me!" John shouted as Dean staggered back, gun held high, aimed at John's head. "Dean!"

Dean slowly lowered his weapon, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He reached out to steady himself against the cabin and swallowed before sucking in a deep breath. "D-Dad?" he gasped breathlessly.

"What the hell are you doing out here? I gave you an order, son!" John hissed as he grabbed Dean's arm and began to drag him back around the side of the cabin.

"I…you didn't come back. I was afraid something happened to you," Dean sputtered, the young man regaining his composure as he pulled his arm out of his father's grasp.

"I gave you a direct order! Stay with Sammy…now he's by himself! Don't you understand how vulnerable he is?" John snapped.

"I do, Dad, but…"

"But nothing! You disobeyed me and left Sam unprotected!"

"The salt lines are…"

"That's not the point! What if Sam wakes up and we're not there? You really think he's just gonna lay there?"

"Dad…I'm sorry. I was just worried about you."

"You let me worry about myself. You're job is to take care of Sammy."

John moved around Dean and eased around the front of the cabin. He nodded his head then moved out of cover and around the porch, Dean following close behind.

"Did you see anything?" Dean asked quietly.

"No…must have been the wind," John answered shortly.

Dean sighed and hurried to catch up to his father. "I'm sorry, Dad. I screwed up, but I just couldn't leave you out here," he said.

"Dean…I understand…I really do, but if it comes down to me or Sam…you pick Sam. Plain and simple…you pick Sam," John said, his voice softer now as he glanced at his son.

"I know…I'm sorry."

"Okay…just remember, an order's an order."

"Yeah…okay."

"Let's check on your brother," John said as he started for the porch.

Dean nodded and followed after his father. John placed his foot on the bottom step when suddenly his body was grabbed by an invisible force and thrown halfway across the yard. He let out a startled yell, followed by a winded grunt when he hit the ground.

"Dad!" Dean cried as he started to run toward his father. He was stopped in his tracks though, the young man unable to move, his eyes going wide when he saw a man…the man from the surveillance tape…stroll out from the tree line, a smirk on his evil face. The man's eyes glowed yellow as he looked first at Dean then at John as the elder hunter dragged himself up from the ground.

"You son of a bitch!" John hissed as he turned toward the demon. "Stay the hell away from my boys!"

"John Winchester…we meet again," the man said, voice deceptively soft for the evil that oozed from him.

"Again? What the hell are you talking about?" John spat as he took a lunge at the demon, only to find that he, like Dean, was glued to the ground, unable to take a single step.

"You don't remember me?" the man queried mockingly. "Oh yeah…you wouldn't remember me," he added.

"What do you want?" Dean asked, green eyes narrowed as he stared down the smirking demon.

"Oh…I came to check on my boy. Making sure you're taking better care of him now," the demon answered as he stepped around John and walked up to Dean.

John growled as the demon stepped to within a few feet of his son. "Get away from him," he warned.

The demon turned and held up his hands in mock surrender. "Oops…sorry…don't want to get near your favored son," he said as he stepped back from Dean and turned toward John.

"You're full of sh*t," John hissed.

"Am I? I mean, the way you treat Dean and then the way you treat poor little Sammy? It's pretty clear who your favorite is, Johnny. Of course, knowing Sam really isn't yours may have something to do with it."

Dean gasped as he jerked his attention to his father. He watched John narrow his eyes, could see his teeth grinding and he knew that if the man could move, he would tear the demon apart with his bare hands.

"What the hell are you talking about? Sam is mine!" John barked, voice low and menacing as his body shook with rage.

"Oh, I keep forgetting…you don't remember that night. Don't remember what was promised to me."

"What night? Why don't you just spit it out you piece of sh*t!"

"I'm talking about the night Sam was given to me."

"What!" both Winchesters shouted in unison, bewildered eyes finding each other before moving back to the vile creature who stood before them.

The demon giggled with glee as he looked from one shocked hunter to the other. Finally, he focused on John. "You were there…well, sort of there. You're neck was snapped, but we don't really need to go into detail."

"You've been in the pit too long…"

"Well, I can see I'm going to have to spell this out for you."

"Why are you here? What do you want with my son?"

"I'm here because I'm not happy with the way you're taking care of my boy. I need him alive and well, yet you seem bound and determined to make sure he doesn't make it to twenty two!" the demon suddenly shouted, his face turning red as his body began to tremble.

"He's not your boy!" Dean snapped, furious that this hellspawn would claim to own his brother.

"Oh, but Dean…he is. He was given to me…a long time ago…before he was even conceived. I'm just making sure that my investment is well taken care of," the demon shot back.

"Who gave him to you? You're crazy!" Dean shouted.

"Your mother gave him to me," the demon answered with amusement, knowing that his answer would strike deep within the men's hearts.

"What! Now I know you're crazy! My mother would never do that!"

"Well…technically, you're right. She didn't know what the cost would be when she made the deal."

"Deal? What deal?" John called, eager to get the demon's attention away from his son.

The demon turned back to John and smiled. "The deal she made to bring you back, John," he answered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," John hissed menacingly.

"Of course you don't. How about I fill you in."

"Okay…fill me in," John said coolly.

"It's kinda a long story."

"I've got time."

"Okay then. It all started when I possessed your future father-in-law..and man, he didn't like you much!" the demon started, lips curled up in amusement. "He…I…broke your neck. Sweet little Mary couldn't bear to lose you and I needed something from her, so I offered her a deal."

"Sammy," Dean whispered, green eyes flicking toward the cabin before returning to the demon.

"Yep…of course, Mary didn't know what I wanted. She accepted my deal…knowing she had ten years before I came to collect. So, after a very long, wet kiss…which if you think about it is kind of icky since I was in her father at the time…the deal was sealed. John was resurrected and Samuel didn't survive…the rest is history."

"So, it was you in Sam's nursery that night…the one who killed my mother," Dean said, voice dripping with hatred.

"She got in the way," the demon said as it turned toward Dean. "If she'd stayed away…let me do what I had to do, she would have lived. Of course, she didn't remember me…that whole mind erase, memory changing thingy I got going on and all…that thing you've experienced first hand, Dean…any you John, all the way back before your boys were born. I was just there, checking on my investment, adding a little insurance when wifey poo decided to step in. She remembered then…she thought she could get out of the deal so I killed her."

"You son of a bitch!" John seethed. "What did you do to my baby?"

"Oh, that. I bled into his mouth…nothing big," the demon answered with a chuckle.

"What! I'm gonna rip you apart!"

"Like I ripped your Mary apart? I don't think so, Johnny. You can't touch me…I'm more than you've ever come across before. I'm going to check in on my boy and then…"

"You stay away from Sam! I swear…you'll regret it if you go near him!" John shouted, fury raging through his veins.

"Wow…not very thankful are you? If it weren't for me, Sam would be dead…because of you. You should show a little more gratitude!"

"You're not taking my brother you son of a bitch!" Dean hissed.

"Oh…you're right…I'm not. Not yet at least. I'm leaving him with you two. I need him trained. I need him strong. I'll come for him when the time is right."

"Then I won't train him anymore. I'll keep him away from hunting," John said.

"No, you won't. You'll do exactly what I wish because it's what you want too…well, sort of at least."

"No. Not now that I know what you want. Sam won't be trained any longer…he'll go to school and he'll…"

"Nope…sorry. You'll keep on doing what you're doing because you won't remember any of this. You won't remember me…nothing about this. You'll remember the accident Sam had, but that's it," the demon explained.

John narrowed his eyes and glared at the demon. "Then why tell us all of this?"

"Because I love to see you squirm, John. I love that I'm giving you all the answers, then I'm taking them all away. I love that there will be this niggling feeling in the back of your mind that you just can't put your finger on. I love that you'll start riding Sam even harder. I need you to push him away, just like you've been doing," the demon answered.

Dean looked over and met John's gaze then he turned back toward the demon. "Why did you kill the driver of the truck?" he asked, the question momentarily throwing the demon off. He quickly recovered though and smiled at the young hunter.

"Because he damaged my property," the demon answered matter of factly.

"You messed up you know," Dean stated.

"How's that?" the demon asked.

"The truck. You left the original damage," Dean answered smugly.

"Ah, yes…that was an oversight on my part, but in my defense…I had nearly an entire town to do my mind meld on. I thought it was kind of funny though…the cops couldn't figure out how all the damage to the truck corresponded with little Sammy's injuries. They were baffled."

"You're forgetting something else though," John called, bringing the demon's attention back to himself.

"What's that?" the demon queried curiously.

"You say we won't remember you…that we'll have new memories of what happened to Sam, but what about…"

"I've already taken care of Singer, and I can take care of the other two when they get here," the demon interrupted.

"What do you mean you've already taken care of Bobby?" John asked fearfully.

"Oh, don't worry. You're friend is perfectly fine…just doesn't remember any of this business. That's why he hasn't gotten back to you…why you can't get ahold of him. I…well when I say I, I mean Rufas…sent him on a hunt. And your friends…they won't remember either."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but just then, a soft voice called out and suddenly both Winchesters hearts filled with dread. They jerked their attention to the cabin where to their shock and dismay, Sam stood, or rather leaned against the railing near the steps.

"Sam! Get back in the house! Now!" John shouted, fear causing his voice to tremble no matter how hard he tried to make is steady.

"Dad…Dean…are you okay?" Sam called, his hazel eyes fixing on the man who stood in front of his father and brother. He gasped when the man turned and smiled, eyes glowing a sickly yellow. He stumbled back then fell hard onto the wooden floor of the porch when the yellow eyes man began to walk toward him.

"Sammy! No! You stay away from him you bastard!" Dean screamed as he fought furiously to break free of the demon's hold.

"Sam! Get into the house!" John shouted, but he knew it would be too late. Sam was in a cast nearly up to his hip and he was most likely hurt from his fall.

The demon turned and smiled smugly as he ascended the steps. He turned his head and stared down at the struggling teen before kneeling down and gently cupping Sam's cheek. Sam immediately stilled, his body unable to pull away no matter how hard he tried. He could hear his family screaming his name, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the yellow eyed man who leaned over him. His heart raced with fear, his hazel eyes wide as he stared up at the man.

"Don't be afraid, Sammy boy. I'm not going to hurt you or your family. I'm just here to check on you…make sure that you're okay…that you're being treated well," the demon cooed softly.

Sam's eyes narrowed at the demons insinuation. "My family takes good care of me," he hissed. "Why are you here?"

"I told you why I'm here."

"What do you want with me?" Sam asked fearfully.

"All in good time, Sam…all in good time," the demon answered before taking his hand away from Sam's cheek and laying it upon his head.

Sam gasped then fell unconscious against the porch floor, his head lolling to the side, cheek softly lying against the rough wood. "Sleep well my child…sleep well," the demon whispered before standing and turning toward the suddenly frantic hunters.

"What did you do to him!" Dean screamed, green eyes glued to his brother's still form.

"Don't worry, Dean…he's just sleeping…no harm done to your precious little brother," the demon called lightly.

"You son of a bitch…if you've hurt him…" John started, only to be cut off.

"Like I said…he's just sleeping. I'm not the one who got him killed, Johnny…I'm the one who brought him back. Why would I hurt him?"

"Because you're a filthy, hellspawned demon!" Dean snapped.

The demon cocked his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, yes, I suppose you're right, but I need Sam. I need him safe and healthy."

"You leave him alone," John warned.

Yellow eyes glanced over at John and considered his warning. Finally, he shook his head and smiled. "Nope…he's mine and one day I'll come for him and there'll be nothing you can do to stop me because you won't even know I'm coming…you won't know anything about me."

"I'm going to kill you."

"No, Johnny…I don't believe you will," the demon said.

"Well, then if he doesn't, I will," Dean hissed.

The demon turned toward Dean and smiled. "No, I don't think you will either," he said.

"I'll put a bullet between your eyes if you come near my brother you son of a bitch," Dean threatened.

"See, a bullet won't kill me, Dean."

"Something will…and I'll find it…you can count on that."

"Okay…good luck with that," the demon said before turning and looking out over the trees. "Looks like your friends are coming…time to finish this," he said as he stepped up to Dean and touched his head.

Dean dropped like a sack of potatoes, his father's cries of anger lost to his unhearing ears. The demon turned toward John and smiled. "Your turn, Johnny," he said as he stepped up to the glowering man.

"You're going to die…mark my words, you will die by a Winchester's hand you bastard," John hissed.

"Not likely, but I commend you for optimism, John."

The demon lifted a hand to the hunter's head and suddenly, John Winchester's world went black.

**SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN SN**

Dean groaned as he slowly came awake, his nose twitching as the aroma of freshly fried bacon reached him. He sat up and glanced over at the other twin bed in the small room. Sam was still sound asleep, his broken leg propped up on two fluffy pillows. Dean pushed himself up onto his elbow, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. He thought back to the terrible night when Sam got hurt. The hunt was supposed to be easy…just a black dog that needed to put down. The black dog had other plans and had attacked Sam, the two of them going over the embankment, rolling over and over each other as they plummeted down the side of the hill.

Sam's leg had been snapped nearly in two, the bone sticking out through the flesh, but he was alive. The black dog on the other hand did not fare so well. It had impaled itself on a tree branch that stuck up from a fallen tree, it's whines and howls dying down as it's life left it. John and Dean had run as fast as they safely could down the hill to where Sam lay gasping on the cold ground. They splinted the teen's leg as best they could then John had lifted him into his arms and carried him out of the woods. That was two weeks ago and yet the fear was still very fresh in Dean's mind. He'd nearly lost his brother that night. He shuddered at the thought before dragging himself from his bed and trudging to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, Dean was showered and dressed and ready for breakfast. John was sitting at the table when Dean walked in. He glanced up from his journal and nodded as Dean grabbed a plate and filled it with bacon and eggs. Dean set his plate on the table then poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting down to eat. He glanced up when John cleared his throat.

"Sam still sleeping?" John asked.

"Yeah…kid's wiped out," Dean answered.

"It's been two weeks, Dean. Time to stop fussing over him. He needs to get up and moving if he's going to get his strength back," John said.

"Dad…he had a compound fracture. He…"

"It comes with the job, Dean. We've got to get moving on soon and all Sam's been doing since leaving the hospital is lying around," John interrupted.

"He's been healing, Dad…not lying around. He nearly died, or did you forget that?" Dean snapped.

"He didn't nearly die…he broke his leg."

"He shouldn't have been on the hunt, Dad."

John slammed his journal shut and glared over the table at his son. "We've been over this, Dean. It's high time Sam get more involved in the hunts and less in school," he snapped impatiently.

"Dad…do you even care about Sam?" Dean asked, green eyes staring intently at his father.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I care about Sam!" John replied gruffly.

"Well, it seems like you don't. You carried Sam out of those woods, Dad. He was screaming in pain before he finally passed out and now, just two weeks later you want him up on his feet and ready to hunt again?" Dean cried in bewilderment.

John sighed as he brushed a hand through his hair. "Dean…that night, I was terrified. I thought I'd lost Sam. I love that kid so much and that's why I can't let him just be carried by you. He needs to toughen up…he needs to be able to take care of himself. I don't know what it is, but for some reason, I think he may be in danger. I just want him to be safe and if that means I have to be a hardass, then so be it. Now, go get your brother up. He needs to eat," he instructed.

Dean stared at his father. "What do you mean he may be in danger?" he asked.

"I don't know…it may be nothing…paranoia even. It's just a feeling, but I want Sam to be at the top of his game, just in case," John answered. "Now go."

"Yes, sir," Dean said, his stomach in knots at his father's words. He walked into the small bedroom and sat on his bed facing Sam. He watched Sam for a few minutes, his thoughts racing through his mind. "I'll never let anything happen to you, Sam…never," he whispered as he gently shook his brother awake.

**The End**

**Okay...so, that's it. What did you think? I hope the ending didn't disappoint. Please let me know. Thank you all...I love you all!**

**Cindy**


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